


Year 4: Truths and Consequences

by Arinus



Series: Calista Snape [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Complete, Dreams and Nightmares, First Love, Friendship, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Legilimency, Legilimens, Mentor Severus Snape, Nightmares, Occlumency, Parent Severus Snape, Parent-Child Relationship, Peer Pressure, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, School, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 92,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arinus/pseuds/Arinus
Summary: Secrets come more naturally to Calista Snape than perhaps anything else, but she's beginning to collapse under the weight of them. A revealing conversation with her Aunt Narcissa and a terrifying encounter in Diagon Alley start her fourth year off on a heavy, ominous note; but they only foreshadow her year to come.--"You know, it's not… it's not the memories of her… you know, pulling my hair, or hitting me, or anything like that, that are the worst ones. It's the other ones, the ones with… the ones where she's holding her wand… the ones where I can see her eyes, and they've gone all cold…"She shivered, and pulled the hood on her cloak up, just as Severus looked over at her again, concern creasing his features."Sometimes I don't remember that part," she continued, and her already soft voice was muffled beneath the hood, so that Severus had to strain to hear her. "The… the curse. And I think maybe that's worse, because it's just… you know, I know it's coming, and there's nothing I can do."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU, because of addition of Severus' OC daughter, but almost completely canon-compliant other than that.  
> All canon characters are in character, including a believable, but still canon-compliant, Severus-as-a-father/Mentor!Severus
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Flashbacks/references to child abuse (physical/magical), dark magic rituals. PTSD. Necessary for plot, no more graphic descriptions than needed. There IS recovery/redemption.

Calista Snape was scowling at a teapot in the middle of the kitchen table in the flat that she lived in during the summers when her father gave her the unexpected news.

_Go on, you idiot teapot_ , she fumed at it internally,  _Become a tortoise, grow a hard shell and a weird lizard-neck. Do it, already!_

It sat, stubbornly a teapot. "You sodding piece of rubbish," she muttered, stabbing her wand at it angrily, just as her father strode into the kitchen.

"I see we are in a lovely mood today," Severus observed.

Well, it wasn't just the teapot, but she wasn't about to tell  _him_  that she'd been waiting nearly two weeks to receive a reply to the letter she'd sent Marcus a few days after term ended. She hadn't really said anything important in it, because she was afraid, irrationally, that it would somehow fall into her father's hands, but still, she would have liked a response.

"I hate this stupid spell," Calista said, instead of saying anything about letters.

"Why don't we try another, then?" he suggested. "Put the teapot away for now."

"But that's not what you said before," Calista protested. "You said I should work on one spell until I got it right, and then go on to the next one. And Professor McGonagall said so, too, and Percy."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, what if I'm not referring to Transfiguration?"

She lowered her wand, and eyed him questioningly.

"What  _are_ you referring to, then?" she asked, "What other spells do I need to practise?"

"Put the teapot away, like I asked you to, and then I'll tell you."

She obliged, but predictably not without slamming the cupboard door closed behind it rather harder than was necessary. She turned to face him, expectantly, wand still in hand. "What do I need to practise?" she asked again.

He studied her face a moment, before answering.

"I think it's time for you to begin learning curses," he said, and Calista felt her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, and her eyes widen considerably.

"Really?" she asked.

"I've told you, I believe it's imperative that you understand the spells you're going to be facing, if you hope to counter them successfully. You've demonstrated an understanding of the theoretical materials I've given you, so I think you should move on to more - practical studies."

"So what do I get to learn first?" she asked, eagerly. "Levicorpus? The Fiendfyre curse?"

"I think we'll start a little more basic than that," Severus said, with mild amusement. "Although I'm pleased that you're eager to learn. I think we'll begin with the Charms that are in the book I gave you for Christmas, and work our way up from there."

"So," she said, listing them on her fingers, "Knee-reversal Hex, Slug-Vomiting Charm, Pimple Jinx, Stinging Jinx, Leg-Locker Curse, and Jellylegs Jinx. And  _then_  I can learn the Fiendfyre Curse?"

"We'll see," Severus said, in a tone that suggested it would be quite a long time before he taught her that particular spell. "But before I teach you  _any_  of these spells, I need to be sure you understand -"

"Not to use them at school," Calista said, "I  _know_. I haven't hexed anyone since Portia in first year."

"The hexes and jinxes you'll learn in the beginning, correct, are not to used at school," he said, "And violating that condition will likely land you in the most unpleasant detentions I can devise. However…"

Severus stepped closer to her, and looked at her quite sternly. "There are spells you will learn, once you have mastered the lesser jinxes and hexes, that you must  _never_  use unless you are in mortal danger. Not only would you be in trouble for using them, but I could get into very serious trouble for teaching them to an underaged witch."

"I won't use them unless I have to," she said, "I promise."

"You can't tell anyone at school you are learning these spells, either," Severus warned, "Not even your friends."

Well, there went the letter she was already writing in her head, to Amelia.

"None of them?" Calista asked, just to be sure.

" _None_."

"Fine," she said, reluctantly. "I won't tell anyone."

Writing them into the book Kim had bequeathed to her wasn't really the same as telling anyone, after all.

"One exception," Severus amended, "You may tell your aunt and uncle, if you wish. In fact, I would not be surprised if they wanted to see a demonstration at some point."

"Can I tell Draco?"

"I'm not certain that would be wise."

"So… so how am I going to practise?" Calista wondered. "I'm not going to cast them on  _you_ , am I?"

"You could cast them on that wretched cat of yours," Severus teased hopefully, but Calista scowled.

"I'm not cursing my cat!" she said, "And I don't particularly want to curse  _you_  either, or at least I didn't before you said that."

"I assure you, I will be able to reverse whatever you do," he said.

"Don't you have to be angry with someone in order to hex them properly?"

"Oh, yes, and  _that_  presents you with a dilemma," he replied sarcastically. "If only you were ever cross with me."

"Dad, seriously," Calista protested, "I don't want to curse you. Can't I practise on mice, or something?"

"Oh, certainly," Severus said, "If you believe that Bellatrix will transfigure herself into a mouse before she comes for you. Dark magic is not to be taken lightly, Calista. If you wish to learn it, you will learn it properly, and that means practising on another human. If you can't handle that, then we will revisit this when you are older."

Calista swallowed, and squared her shoulders. "No," she said, "I can handle it."

"Good," Severus said, and nodded to her. "Raise your wand."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista received more owls from her friends that summer than she ever had before, but there was still nothing from Marcus three weeks into the summer. Had something happened to the owl she sent him? It didn't seem likely, and besides, if it were her, if she had gone this long without hearing from him, she would have sent  _something_. Had he changed his mind about liking her, already?

She had heard from all of her other friends; she'd been invited to Emily's, again, and in light of the risk Emily had taken in arranging the conversation with Marcus in the owlery, Calista felt she owed it to her housemate to give their friendship another chance, so she took the train to Emily's house, and spent just one night there.

Emily had wanted to know how things were going with her and Marcus, but Emily was still Olivia's friend, so Calista didn't want to trust her with anything, and she evaded Emily's questions. They'd played Gobstones a bit, but Calista grew bored with it quickly; Sofia and Eva were right, it w _as_  for babies.

Emily had wanted to play that book game again, the one that was supposed to tell you whom you were going to marry, but Calista didn't want to play that again, either. She told Emily that it was a stupid game, but the truth was that she still remembered getting the initials "M.F." two summers ago, and some superstitious part of her was somehow afraid that playing the game again, and getting different results, might ensure that Marcus never wrote her back.

They decided to play wizard chess, with a battered old set that Emily's mother had found packed in a dusty box way on top of a bookcase. Emily hadn't played in a few years, though, and Calista had been practising with Percy, Penelope, and Amelia, so she beat Emily easily. What had surprised Calista, however, was playing a round with Emily's mother. She hadn't expected much, but Ferada beat her soundly; she was easily as skilled as Penelope, whom Calista also couldn't best.

When all was said and done, Calista had a nice time at Emily's, and it seemed that their tentative friendship had been rekindled. She tried not to wonder how long it would be until Olivia managed to ruin it, again.

One pleasant discovery of the summer was that Calista and Amelia actually did not live very far from one another; it took only a fifteen minute bus ride to Amelia's house, the first time that Calista had been invited over. The downside was that Calista was fairly certain that Amelia's family thought she was hopelessly weird, and she was afraid to go back after the first time.

She had never been to a Muggle house before, and there were a great number of things about it that confused her. There was some sort of large wood and glass box in their living room, for instance, and when they pointed a wide, flat sort of wand at it, it showed talking pictures, a bit like the paintings at Hogwarts, but much grainier. Calista thought it seemed boring, but Amelia's parents seemed glued to it; they liked to watch something they called news, but Calista had never heard of news that wasn't from a paper.

She had stayed for dinner, and she and Amelia had been tasked with boiling potatoes, but Calista didn't know how to heat the pot without her wand; she did know that she wasn't allowed to use her wand in front of Muggles, so she'd supposed the cooktop must operate with some sort of wandless magic. Amelia had had to come and tell her, with barely contained laughter, that it wouldn't turn itself on, no matter how much she yelled at it.

And then, of course, there had been the lights. Amelia's mother had asked her to switch the dining room light on, since she was closest to it, but Calista had been bewildered; she wasn't closest to the light  _at all_ , couldn't Amelia's mother see that? The light was hanging from the ceiling, Amelia's father was closest; and anyway, the only ways Calista knew to turn on a light were with a wand, which she had been instructed not to draw unless Bellatrix somehow mysteriously showed up, and with a button at the light's base, like the one that Calista had in her room in Severus' quarters. She didn't see such a button on the Slaters' dining room light, however, and even if it had been there, she wouldn't have been able to reach it. Amelia's father had raised his eyebrows like Calista was an idiot, and strode over to where she stood, pressing a switch on the wall that Calista hadn't noticed.

After that disastrous visit, she hadn't wanted to go back, so she'd made Amelia come to her house to visit, instead. Amelia's parents were slightly wary of their daughter going to a magical household, until Amelia reminded them that Calista's father was a professor. The problem with Amelia visiting at Calista's house was that Calista's father was their professor, so they didn't quite feel free to be themselves. For one thing, Calista was bursting to fill Amelia in on her worries regarding Marcus' failure to write back to her, but she was afraid her father would overhear.

She and Amelia were in her room one day, looking through the Charms book for next year, to see if any of the spells looked interesting, when her father's owl, Nox, flew up to her bedroom window. She leapt up to throw the window open and let the owl in, and practically tore the letter off its leg. Nox hooted with evident irritation, and headed for the kitchen, where he liked to try and find scraps of food in the rubbish bin before anyone realised he was not in his cage.

Calista unrolled the letter, her heart racing. It  _had_  to be Marcus, by now…

It wasn't. It was from Kim Avery, which made a whole lot of sense, actually, considering that the last letter she'd sent was to Kim. She felt stupid, once she realised who it was from. Of  _course_  it wasn't from Marcus, how would he have gotten her father's owl?

_Hey Snapelet -_

_You'll never guess where they've given me an internship - Gringotts, of all places. I'm shadowing their curse breakers, and they think I'll be able to try breaking a few myself, soon. I'm pretty sure it's thanks to the letter of recommendation your dad wrote that I got accepted, so tell him thanks for me._

_I heard that you and Marcus are finally snogging - good for you, Snapelet, I knew it would happen eventually, you should have heard how much he talked about you when we were all in the lockers. I nearly told you myself just so he'd stop nattering on, but all's well that ends well, right?_

_Don't forget to keep putting stuff in that book - it's a tradition, you have to pass it on, and it's got to be a Slytherin, because at least_ our _Prefects aren't smarmy little suck-ups who will run blubbering to a professor if they come across it._

_I like my internship so far but I miss Hogwarts already, so be sure and give me news if anything good happens. I'll write you if I learn anything else I can corrupt your little brain with._

_-Kim_

"So, is it from him?" Amelia wondered, watching Calista read.

"Shhh!" Calista looked pointedly at her half-open bedroom door. "No, it's not. It's from Kim."

Amelia grinned. "That seventh-year that got drunk at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"I kind of liked her," Amelia said. "She's like… kind of the way I want to be, when I'm in seventh year."

"So, you want to get drunk?" Calista laughed.

"Hey, shh yourself, if your dad hears  _that_  out of context, we're both in trouble…"

As if on cue, Severus pushed open Calista's bedroom door the rest of the way; he was facing towards the kitchen, and had pushed her door open sideways, so he must have been walking by.

"If I hear  _what_  out of context?" he asked, silkily.

"Er...n-nothing, sir," Amelia stammered, going pale.

Calista rolled her eyes. " _Nothing_ , Dad. Don't you have boring professor things to do?"

"As it happens, I'm on summer break too," Severus reminded her, "And besides, you've interrupted me from my 'boring professor things' by letting my owl loose in the kitchen."

His eyes moved suspiciously around the room, lingering on each of them before stopping on the letter.

"Ah," Severus said, "I should have known it was a letter for you. Who  _else_  in this house forgets to put my owl back in his cage, on a regular basis?"

"Sorry."

"Not nearly as sorry as you'll be when you're picking up the rubbish he's knocked all over the floor," Severus said wryly, "Who is the letter from, anyway?"

"Kim Avery," Calista said, "She says thanks for writing her a recommendation letter. She's interning as a curse breaker at Gringotts."

"Is she? I expected she'd go into something with Potions, antidotes perhaps. But then, I suppose it's not nearly as exciting as curse breaking, for someone like Miss Avery. Did she say anything else about it?"

"Just, uhm, that she likes it," Calista said, folding the letter quickly. What if he asked to read it?  _I heard that you and Marcus are finally snogging_. Yeah, that would go over really well… Calista concentrated on keeping her face impassive.  _Please don't ask to read it_ , she begged internally.

Severus frowned slightly, and looked at Calista for a moment longer, while Calista trained her expression to be as neutral as she could manage. She hoped she wasn't blushing.

"Well," Severus said, "I have a few quick errands to run downtown. You two be sure to stay  _out_  of trouble, regardless of context. I'll put Nox in his cage, but I expect you to clean up the mess in the kitchen, Calista."

"Do I have to do it  _now,_  while Amelia's here?"

"You have to do it now. You can send Miss Slater home first, though, if you wish…"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll do it in a minute."

"Perhaps next time you'll remember why we generally keep owls in cages."

Severus went out then, and Calista and Amelia went into the kitchen; Nox  _had_  gotten into the rubbish bin, and spilled its contents all over the floor, but at least it didn't look like he'd left any droppings around. Calista made a face, and started picking up the rubbish.

"We should just go to my house next time," Amelia said, nudging a crust of bread with the toe of her trainer. "My parents are always watching television, they hardly pay attention to what I'm doing."

"Yeah," Calista said, "But they think I'm weird, now. How was  _I_  supposed to know your cooktop was rubbish?"

Amelia snorted. "It's not rubbish, Calista, it's  _electric_. You just have to turn the knob… And anyway, my parents don't think you're  _that_  weird."

"Yes they do," Calista said, "Your dad even said so, when I was leaving, he told your mum 'Amelia's picked up the oddest friends at that school'."

"Well," Amelia said, trying not to laugh. "In their defence… you did start yelling ' _Incendio_ ' at our oven."

"It would have worked," Calista said moodily, dumping a handful of rubbish into the bin, "If I was allowed to use my wand."

"It would have worked?" Amelia  _was_  laughing now. "Calista, you would have burned my house down!"

"Yeah, well," Calista said, "It'd be lit, wouldn't it?"

"You're ridiculous," Amelia said breathlessly between laughs. "I'm so glad we're friends."

Calista finished cleaning up the kitchen, and then washed her hands at the sink.

"Me too," she said over her shoulder, "Even though you have a weird house."

When she turned around, Amelia was sitting at the kitchen table.

"So," Amelia said, "Have you heard much from Marcus, then?"

"No." Calista slumped into the chair opposite Amelia. "How does everyone know about that, anyway?"

Calista had admitted the truth, including the secret meetings in the owlery, to Amelia, but only after Amelia had pressed, insisting that she knew something was going on between them. She hadn't told anyone else, except for Sofia and Eva, sort of.

"Not  _everyone_  knows," Amelia said, "Just… me and Penny and Percy - well, I assume Percy knows, I never actually told him, but Penny probably did. And whoever you've told, in Slytherin."

"I haven't really told anyone," Calista said, "They all just sort of… figured it out."

"Yeah," Amelia said, "It is kind of obvious, I suppose. I mean, I wasn't sure if you liked him or not, but I could tell he liked you as soon as he came up to you in the corridor outside Arithmancy… he looked like a great big puppy, remember? And then he got all prickly with Percy, he must've thought Percy fancied you too, but of course he's only got eyes for -"

"For who?" Calista wondered, because she had no idea what Amelia was talking about, "And Marcus doesn't look like a  _puppy_ , that's ridiculous."

"Well, he did that day. And come on, you can't tell me you don't know about Percy?"

"I don't," Calista repeated. "Who has he got eyes for?"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Penny, of course. Haven't you noticed? Talk about a  _puppy_ , he practically follows at her heel."

"I had no idea," Calista said. "Is he… is he really that obvious?"

Amelia chuckled. "You're joking, right? It's the most obvious thing I've ever seen…"

Well, if Percy fancied Penny and it really was so obvious, then it was no wonder Calista had had no idea that Marcus liked  _her_. Apparently, she was blind to other peoples' crushes. She wished everyone else would be as blind to  _hers._

"So how often  _have_  you heard from Marcus, then?" Amelia wondered, curiously.

"Not at all," Calista said, and she scowled.

"Well, have you tried writing him?"

"I did, practically the first day of summer," Calista said, "He never wrote anything back. I guess he doesn't like me anymore. Maybe he's decided to go for Endria after all… or Olivia, ugh, I don't know if i could stand  _that_."

"Ick," Amelia agreed, "I  _hate_  that girl, her and her snot-nosed little sidekick -"

"Portia," Calista replied.

"Yeah, her. I don't think that's what's happened, Calista. There's no way Marcus could like  _you_  and then go and like someone like  _her_ , you're completely different sorts of people. What did you write, in the letter you sent him? Maybe it was just… maybe it was too mushy, boys hate that."

"It wasn't  _mushy_  at all," Calista retorted. "I wouldn't ever write rubbish like that. It was just… just regular stuff, I asked if he was still in remedial Transfiguration, I told him I decided to drop Care of Magical Creatures. Stuff like that."

Amelia blinked. "Okay, well, what else?"

"Nothing else," Calista said impatiently, "I was afraid somehow - what if my dad saw it, you know?"

"Ca _lis_ ta," Amelia said, sounding exasperated. "No wonder he hasn't written you back! He probably thinks  _you_  don't like  _him_  anymore, you can't go from snogging in the owlery to writing about… about your  _timetable_!"

"Well, why not?" Calista wondered, defensively. "I would've told him about that in person, if I saw him, so why can't I write it?"

"Well, I guess you can, but you have to write other stuff too! 'I can't wait to snog you in the owlery again' or 'You look real fit in your Quidditch robes', something like that! You can't just… wow, even  _I_  know better than that, and I haven't had a boyfriend since primary school."

Calista sputtered, bewildered. "I can't write anything like  _that_ ," she said, "I'd sound like some simpering idiot, and besides, what if my dad saw it somehow, or Marcus' parents? And besides, he's not… I don't  _think_  he's my boyfriend, we never said… and what the hell is 'primary school', anyway?"

"Come on, you know," Amelia said, "It's where you learn to read and write, and maths and all that stuff. The school I went to before Hogwarts, before I found out I was a witch."

"Yeah, we don't have anything like that," Calista said, shaking her head. "You had a boyfriend when you were just small, then?"

"Well, we used chase each other around at recess and kiss under the playground equipment after school… I think that's the requirement for a boyfriend, Calista," she said with a grin, "Hiding around school and kissing. I'm pretty sure he  _is_  your boyfriend, unless you keep writing him about your timetable."

Calista folded her arms and scowled stonily.

"Anyway," Amelia said, curiously. "If you don't have primary school, how do you… how do wizarding children learn to read and write?"

"Well, our parents teach us, I guess," Calista said unfolding her arms and leaning forward thoughtfully. "I don't… I don't really remember learning to read, I guess my… I guess my mother must have taught me. My dad bought me maths books, so I'd know about measurements and things for Potions."

Amelia was looking at her carefully, now. "Your… your mother… you sounded funny when you said that, and I've never asked… is she… did she die, Calista?"

Amelia's voice was gentle, prepared to offer pity or solace, whichever it seemed as though Calista was after. For a second, Calista thought about telling her. It might be a relief, to let someone know, and not be worried that she would find out from Olivia.

But she looked at Amelia's round face, her grey-blue eyes, and kind, understanding expression, and knew she couldn't tell her friend. How  _could_  she, when Amelia was Muggle-born, and Calista's mother had been sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing Muggles and Muggle-borns?

"I… yeah, something like that. I don't want to talk about it. So… so what should I say to Marcus, besides all that nonsense you just said that I'll never write?"

"Nothing else," Amelia said, "Just all that nonsense.  _Trust_ me. Do it now, before your dad gets back, and I'll help you figure out what to write."

"No," Calista said quickly, "I'd die of embarrassment, I'll just… I'll write something later. You're  _sure_  I'm supposed to say all that junk?"

"Pretty sure," Amelia said, "I mean, it can't hurt. You have to say  _something_  to let him know you still fancy him, right?"

"I dunno, if you say so."

Amelia laughed and rolled her eyes, just as Calista noticed Severus coming back up the walk.

" _Timetables_ ," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly, Calista…"

"Shut it," Calista said, as Severus tapped his wand to the lock, and entered the kitchen. She greeted her father, trying to look as innocent and boyfriend-less as possible.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

By the fourth week of summer, when Calista had still not heard from Marcus, she decided to take Amelia's advice, as well as she could. She  _wasn't_  going to write him a bunch of sappy junk, but maybe he  _was_  afraid she had lost interest in him, although she didn't see how he could think that.

What if Calista had been right, though, and he really didn't like her anymore? Then she would come across like a desperate idiot, writing him twice without hearing back. Still, there came a point where Calista decided it was better to know and be let down than to keep driving herself mad wondering all summer, so she wrote him another letter.

_Dear Marcus,_

_I guess you're probably having a busy summer. Mine's been okay, I've been hanging around with Amelia mostly, but I went to Emily's house, too. Next week I'm going to visit my aunt and uncle, and my little cousin, Draco. He's pretty fun, he likes collecting Wizard Cards._

_I don't know what kinds of things I'm supposed to write to you now. Amelia said all the things I put in my last letter were wrong, but I'm not writing any of the rubbish she told me to, so I guess I'll just write that I miss you, and I wish we could go flying again. I guess it's not really all that bad, as long as I don't fall. I still don't want to go upside-down, though._

_\- Calista_

She almost didn't send it, afraid that even that much would sound too much like she was sitting around all summer waiting for him to write her back, but… well, she  _was_  pretty much doing that, wasn't she? She wondered if he would bother writing back this time. Maybe he was on holiday, or something, and Nox couldn't find him.

That evening, while she and her father were eating dinner, there was a tapping on the window. Her father rose to let Nox in. Well, there was that, anyway, she knew he had gotten her letter, if Nox had come back.

Except, her father was pulling a letter off Nox's leg, now.  _Had_ the owl been unable to locate Marcus? She better grab her letter back, before he decided to open it…

"That's probably mine," she said, hopping up quickly. "I, uhm… I wrote to Emily earlier."

He handed the parchment to her without a second glance at it; really, had it been that easy?

"You can open it after dinner," he said, "Put it away for now."

She nodded, and hurried to put the rolled-up parchment away in her room. She stuffed it down the side of her school trunk, and threw some clothes on top of it, just in case. She didn't really think her father would start going through her trunk, but it made her feel better to hide it.

"You could have set it aside on the table," her father said, when he returned, eyebrows raised. "You and Miss Yaxley are not planning anything I should be aware of, are you?"

"No," she said, "We're not planning anything, it's just… uhm, about clothes, and uhm… hairstyles."

Those were the sort of things girls generally wrote letters to their friends about, weren't they? She'd bet anything it was what Olivia and Portia wrote about.

"I… see." Severus said.

As soon as she could without arousing suspicion, Calista closed herself in her room, and dug Marcus' letter out of her school trunk. He was probably telling her he didn't like her anymore, she told herself, bracing for the worst. He'd tried ignoring her first letter, but then when she sent another he had to be sure she didn't get the wrong idea…

She unrolled it, tired of speculating.

_Hey Calista,_

_Yeah I'm glad you wrote me again because I was really confused before. I thought maybe you just wanted to be friends again and I didn't know what to say because that's not really what I want. I liked having you for a friend, but I like having you for a girlfriend much better. I hope that's what you want too._

_I knew you would like flying once you gave it a try. I bet you could be really good at it if we keep practising. But really I don't mind you not being so good yet because I like taking you up. We could go flying before school starts you know, you could come visit my house. I told my parents about you so they won't mind, they want to meet you anyway._

_Let me know, it would be really cool to see you again before school._

_\- Marcus_

_PS: Yeah I do have remedial transfiguration again. That's my only one this year though._

Calista read the letter over and over, feeling the same flutter in her stomach she did when she was with him; she was glad she had closed her bedroom door, because she knew she was blushing something fierce.

_I like having you for a girlfriend._

Amelia was right, then, she  _did_  have a boyfriend… it felt thrilling and a little scary at the same time to think of it that way. And he liked taking her flying… she wondered if he liked it for the same reason she did, because they could be close together, because he could put his arms around her… because he could say things right in her ear.

Calista read the letter until it ceased to have so strong an effect on her, until she felt her cheeks cool. She folded the letter up, and stuck it inside the cover of her Arithmancy book, in her school trunk. She wanted to write back… but she didn't want to risk her father asking her why it was so critical that she continue her hairstyle conversation with Emily tonight, so she forced herself to wait until tomorrow. She supposed she could have written the letter that night, and simply waited until the next day to post it, but she didn't want to take the risk of having it sitting around in her room, just in case.

When she did write back the next day, she waited until her father was deeply absorbed in a book before she let Nox out of his cage and sent the letter.

_Dear Marcus,_

_I do still like you. I like this better than just being friends, too._

_I wish I could come visit you, but I still haven't told my dad. I don't think I can, he won't understand. I know he'll just tell me, again, that I'm not allowed to have a boyfriend until I'm thirty._

_At least when I'm of age it should be okay. I don't think I really have to keep everything a secret until I'm thirty, probably only until I graduate Hogwarts. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I just don't want him to tell me I'm not allowed to see you, and I don't want him to be unfair to you, either._

_I don't think I'll ever be any good at flying by myself, but once I can Apparate, it won't matter. I will still want to go flying with you, though. It's different._

_\- Calista_

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista was spending a week at Malfoy Manor. She had thought, initially, that Severus would be there the entire time, too, but he'd told her he had some other things to attend to, some meetings at the school and so forth, and something about a house that had belonged to his family, or something. It sounded boring, so Calista tuned that part out, and focused instead on the fact that she would be spending an entire week away from him.

She could… maybe she could go visit Marcus, maybe Aunt Narcissa would let her… but then, Severus had misread her surprise, and said that he would likely stop by to visit several times during the week, when he found the chance. She supposed it was a good thing, in case she had another nightmare she had to talk to him about; he told her that Lucius and Narcissa would know how to call him up on the fire if he wasn't at home, and bid her ask them to do so if anything important came up.

He had actually offered her the choice of staying the week with Emily or with the Malfoys, but Calista wasn't quite ready to relive the week she'd spent at Emily's so soon; more than one embarrassing thing had happened that she'd care to forget. Besides, she liked Draco and Aunt Narcissa a lot, and even her Uncle Lucius was being kinder to her than he had been initially. Severus reminded her, nevertheless, to be vigilant and to keep her barriers intact.

The first night, Severus had stayed for dinner. The entire meal, Calista had concentrated on trying not to look as nervous as she felt; what if Narcissa slipped and asked Calista something about Marcus in front of Severus? She didn't, though, thankfully, and then Severus left after dinner.

After they had eaten, Calista wanted to go up to Draco's room and make a potion with him, but Lucius and Narcissa invited her to the library instead, for tea and sweets. She accepted politely, and wondered if they were going to ask her about the hexes her father had been teaching her. She hoped not, because she didn't feel like she knew very many useful ones, yet, and she wanted to impress them when they asked about it.

It turned out they didn't want to talk to her about that at all, though. They wanted to talk to her about Olivia, or at least Narcissa did. Lucius seemed interested mostly in observing the conversation, though he did contribute a sneer or a comment here and there.

"How are things going with that girl at your school?" Narcissa wondered, after their house-elf had come around with a tea tray. Calista wished they had coffee instead, but accepted the tea and a few biscuits.

"She's the same as always," Calista said, "Trying to get me in trouble, or make me cross, or just generally ruin my life."

"Well," Narcissa said, "You don't need to concern yourself with her or her opinions, it's just as I suspected, darling. She's not nearly as important as she'd like you to think."

"So you found out who her mother is?" Calista asked. "And why she wants Olivia to be friends with me so badly?"

"The latter is blindingly obvious," Lucius interjected softly. "I'm afraid, Calista, that this is not likely to be your final experience with people who wish to use your family connections to improve their own lot. It's precisely why you should be choosing your acquaintances carefully."

Calista shifted uncomfortably; she felt the topic was drifting dangerously close to blood purity, and she didn't want it to go there. Although, it  _would_ be rich to find out that Olivia wasn't really a pureblood, after she nattered on about it so much… but surely Olivia wouldn't be so brazen as to lie about  _that_ , when it could so easily be verified?

"It turns out," Narcissa said, "That Thomas Avril's wife is on the Wizengamot; it seems like a coveted position in some circles, of course, but she serves on a subcommittee that deals primarily with internal fraud investigations at the Ministry. Certainly, there are more glamorous positions to be had in the Wizengamot, but it does explain how her husband got away without serving any time for the embezzlement business with the Floo Network."

Narcissa smiled, and leaned forward. "But that's not the interesting part, darling. Her mother's maiden name is what I think you'll find amusing. Before she married Avril, she was Almeria Gamp."

"Erm…" Calista said, sheepishly. "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"The Gamps, dear," Narcissa said, as if she did expect Calista to know. "The great pretenders of our world."

Calista nodded, and tried to look as though she knew what Narcissa was talking about.

"It appears," Lucius said, with an evident note of disapproval, "That further revision on the wizarding families of Britain is in order."

Calista scowled. Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, as if in challenge.

"Anyway," Narcissa pressed on, glancing between her husband and her niece, "The Gamps claim to be pureblooded, but their line is riddled with misalliances and mixed blood, so much so that they were barred from appearing in the Sacred Twenty-Eight as far back as 1930. Your schoolmate can put on airs all she wants, but in essence, as far as our kind are concerned, she's a nobody."

"Well, I'm not a pureblood, either," Calista said, crossly. She wasn't certain anymore if she was cross with Olivia, or cross with her aunt and uncle. "So why does her mother want her to be friends with  _me_  so badly, anyway?"

"You're much closer to being a pureblood than  _she_ is," Narcissa began, but Lucius cut through his wife's words with a declaration that was no less powerful, no less final, for the fact that it was spoken softly.

"Your father is an exceptional man, a credit to our kind despite his mixed blood. With him, and with you, it doesn't matter as much as it does with some others. Besides, his mother's line is pure. One Muggle ancestor, while regrettable, does not dilute the blood in the same way that a pattern of such indiscretions does."

Calista nodded, uncertainly. She wasn't even certain which line  _was_  his mother's. She had never asked, because she didn't care. She had a feeling, however, that admitting to the Malfoys that she didn't care about blood purity would be inadvisable.

"Yes," Narcissa agreed, "As long as you make a suitable match, the long-term harm can be mitigated."

_A suitable match_. Calista wondered if they would consider Marcus a suitable match. She didn't think she cared whether they did or not.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed, and his tone darkened as he added, "As for this Avril girl, I will strongly advise both of her parents to seek an audience with me directly in the future, rather than engage in attempts to manipulate my underaged niece."

Calista smirked. She liked the idea of Lucius "strongly advising" someone of something, so long as that someone was not her.  _This_  would surely get Olivia off her case.

"Thank you," she said.

The rest of the week went by relatively smoothly, although Lucius did insist that she take their copy of  _Pureblood Wizarding Families of Great Britain_  to her room to look through. It sat on her night stand, stubbornly untouched.

She and Draco made a few potions together, which made Calista sharply miss the times when she had been in the reverse role, learning potions from her father. She wondered if she could still successfully keep her secret relationship with Marcus from him, if she began spending more time with him again. She felt a dull ache of sadness when she considered the possibility that it might not be possible to spend both more time with her father and more time with Marcus, not while she had to keep the latter secret from the former.

Narcissa insisted on taking her shopping, again. They had her robes lengthened, and Narcissa bought her a whole slew of new things to wear underneath them, skirts and blouses (as if she didn't have enough from last summer), and even more embarrassing things that went underneath  _those_. Narcissa said she needed a new brassiere, but Calista thought her aunt had only said that to try and make her feel better about the fact that she  _didn't_  need one.

"So," Narcissa said, while they walked the short distance from their Apparition point to the salon Narcissa had brought her to last summer, "Tell me about this young man of yours. He is in Slytherin, of course? Is he from a good family?"

"He's in Slytherin," Calista said, apprehensively. What if he  _wasn't_  from what Narcissa would consider a 'good family'? It wouldn't change the way that Calista felt about him, but if Narcissa disapproved, would she then decide to try and put an end to their relationship by informing Calista's father of it?

"What's his name?" Narcissa pressed gently, but Calista imagined she could hear Narcissa's unspoken question:  _What's his blood status?_

"Marcus," Calista said, and then, deciding there was no point in delaying the inevitable, "Marcus Flint."

She braced herself for an adverse reaction. Narcissa paused, stopping just outside the door of the salon. Calista forced herself to look up into her aunt's face - and was surprised to see that Narcissa was positively beaming.

"Oh, that's wonderful, darling. The Flints are a very good family - in fact, I believe Lucius is acquainted with one of them, I do remember him saying something about a Flint who works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry."

"Oh," Calista said, relieved. "Well, that makes sense, I guess. Marcus is on the Quidditch team. He plays Chaser, and he's going to be Captain this year. He said Quidditch was really important to his dad, before."

Narcissa swept them both into the salon. "You know, you wearing your hair up like that has given me an idea," she said thoughtfully, putting her hands on Calista's shoulders, and studying her face intently.

Calista had been wearing her hair in a ponytail almost exclusively since Marcus had said he liked it. The memory of that conversation, and the summer flight that had come after it, caused her to blush faintly.

The stylist came over then, and it was just as before, Calista was placed immediately at the front of the line, and was in the chair seconds after they had entered.

Narcissa instructed the stylist, who took Calista's hair down from its ponytail, and started carefully cutting it. Calista didn't bother to pay attention to what Narcissa was telling her, because it was evident that she didn't have a say of her own in this circumstance, and anyway, she wasn't sure if she even wanted one.

"Have you told your father about him yet?" Narcissa asked, and Calista shook her head rapidly, causing the stylist to cluck, and hold her head still.

"No," Calista said, "I can't, he'd never approve."

"But the Flints are a good family," Narcissa said, for the second time. "I think perhaps he might, as long as this young man is treating you properly. He is treating you properly, isn't he?"

"I guess," Calista said, "I mean, yeah, he's really nice to me. We've been friends since my first year, and he's always stuck up for me when Olivia was being a stupid cow. He… he taught me how to fly a bit, too. I never would have passed flying lessons if he didn't help me. But there's  _no way_  my dad is going to let me date anyone, trust me."

"It will take some time for him to get used to the idea," Narcissa agreed, "But I suspect that he will be much more amenable to it if you tell him directly, and tell him soon. The rumours will begin to fly at school, darling, if they aren't already. Wouldn't you rather your father heard about your relationship with this boy from you before he hears about it from one of your classmates - that nasty Avril girl, say?"

"I'd rather he never hears about it," Calista said sourly.

"Yes, well, I don't believe that's going to be an option, once you've decided to be exclusive with this boy… unless you've made it that far, already?"

"Uhm," Calista said, because she wasn't quite certain what her aunt was asking. "He called me his girlfriend -ow, watch it! I need that, you know."

This latter part was directed at the stylist, who had the tip of her wand dangerously close to Calista's eye.

"Calista," Narcissa said, "If you truly intend to carry on a relationship with this young man, you'll need to tell your father."

"No," Calista said again, stubbornly. "And you can't - you promised me you wouldn't tell him!"

"I won't, as long as this Marcus is treating you with the proper respect and kindness," Narcissa said, "But  _you_  should. Please think on it carefully, darling, all right? Now - look at your reflection, isn't that lovely?"

Calista rearranged her scowl into a neutral expression as she was turned around to face the glass. At her aunt's behest, the stylist had given her a longish, wispy sort of fringe, with longer pieces at the ends that framed her face. It actually looked… Calista turned her head to the side to be certain… it actually looked nice.

Narcissa stepped up behind her, and pulled Calista's hair back gently, holding it in a fashion that imitated the ponytail she'd entered the salon with; it looked even better this way, making her hair appear sleek instead of simply thin. Now, if only she could do something about her blasted  _nose_ , her too-narrow chin, or any of the other things Calista didn't like about herself.

"What do you think?" Narcissa asked her, with a smile that Calista thought looked a tiny bit mischievous. "Do you suppose your young man will like it?"

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Things continued to go surprisingly well, until the final night of Calista's stay. Severus had come for dinner again, and he was supposed to be taking Calista home after the meal, but she hadn't packed all of her things yet, because she'd spent the day making potions with Draco and avoiding Lucius, who she was afraid might question her to see if she'd been reading the book that was still sitting untouched on the night stand upstairs.

Calista was on edge anyway, because Narcissa was telling Severus about their shopping trip as they ate dinner, and it felt to Calista that it was nearly inevitable for something about their conversation, about Marcus, to slip.

"She's growing up to be so lovely, Severus," Narcissa said affectionately, after she'd described their trip to the salon. Calista had the impression that Severus was only feigning interest. "She looks more and more like her mother, don't you think?"

Calista set her jaw, and looked fixedly at her plate.

"I think Calista looks like Calista," Severus said, evenly, and Calista considered leaping up from the table to hug him for saying what felt like the perfect response.

"Well, yes, of course," Narcissa said, and when Calista chanced a glance at her, she was smiling affectionately. and redirected her words to Calista. "But you have her bone structure, darling. If you had curly hair like hers, you'd be nearly her spitting image."

"I would not," Calista said, defiantly. She didn't care if she sounded rude.

There was a familiar, gentle brush against the edge of her mind; she investigated it, and felt the words of a message.

_Stay calm._

"I know she wasn't a perfect mother," Narcissa said, and even though her tone was kind, and Calista knew she meant well, she could feel a familiar rage rising up like a tidal wave, pounding against her skin. "But I know she loved you in her way, and I am certain she would be proud, if she could see the way you're growing up."

Calista was not quite capable of staying calm, any longer. She thought she was angry, as she pushed her chair away from the table, and stormed out of the room as quickly as she could, upstairs towards the bedroom she slept in when they were here. She still thought she was angry when she hurled open the bedroom door, yanked the lid of her school trunk open, and began stuffing things inside.

It was only when her eyes blurred with tears, and one fat drop landed on the cover of her Charms book that she realised that what she was feeling was a good deal more complicated than that.

A minute later, her ears perked at the sound of footsteps at the threshold. She should have known her father would come after her. "I'm sorry," she said, struggling to keep the tears out of her voice. "I just couldn't…" she trailed off when she turned her head and realised that it wasn't Severus who had come into her room at all. It was Narcissa.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Narcissa asked, gently. Calista drew in a breath, swallowed the lump in her throat, and wiped her hand across her eyes. She found that, when she concentrated, she was able to keep new tears from stinging her eyes.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I just… nothing's wrong, Aunt Narcissa."

Narcissa reached for her cheek, holding Calista's face in the same tender gesture she had done when they'd first met, when she'd bid Calista to remember that it was important for the old families to remain close.

"I'm afraid I don't believe you," Narcissa said quietly. Calista noticed that she had closed the door behind her, though it must have been softly, because she hadn't heard it.

"Where's my dad?" Calista asked. It occurred to her that it seemed out of character for him  _not_  to pursue her.

"He's still downstairs, with Lucius," Narcissa said, "I asked him to let me come and talk to you, since I was the one to upset you."

"It's nothing," Calista repeated, wishing Narcissa would leave so she could wallow in her rage, her sadness, her whatever-else she was feeling.

Narcissa took her hand off Calista, and rose, but she didn't leave. She perched on one of the matching armchairs in the room, instead.

"It's certainly understandable, even expected, for you to resent your mother," Narcissa began, and for a second Calista thought she actually understood, and she felt a temporary relief that was like a lightness in her chest.

"You're growing up," Narcissa continued, "And she isn't here to see it."

"What?" Calista said, stunned into a response. "Are you - that's not it, at all. You have no idea…" she shook her head.

"No idea about what, Calista?"

" _Nothing_."

"Is it…" Narcissa asked hesitantly, "Are you upset because you feel you can't be honest about  _who_  your mother is?"

This startled Calista. How did Narcissa know that?

"I… I guess that's part of it," she hedged.

"I should admit, then, that I've already discussed this matter some with your father. I know you were both trying to keep your mother secret for some time to protect your father's interests with Dumbledore, but… Calista, it will out eventually, anyway. We both agree that's so."

Her father's interests with Dumbledore… Calista had never even  _considered_  how the truth of her mother's identity might affect her father, had only ever concerned herself with how it might affect  _herself_. What if it made people see him differently, as well? She realised that she didn't know, really, how the wizarding world at large  _did_  view her father. Did they know that he had once been a Death Eater, too?

"I don't want to tell anyone," Calista said, because it seemed as if Narcissa expected her to say something.

"You like your secrets, don't you, darling?" Narcissa said, and she sounded a little sad.

"Yeah," Calista said, "I do."

She'd meant it to come off a little rude, enough to get Narcissa to leave her alone, but hopefully not enough to get herself in trouble. Narcissa didn't seem to take it that way, though; she beckoned for Calista to come closer to her, again.

Calista did, only because she couldn't think of a way not to that wouldn't seem extremely ungracious; she was upset with Narcissa, but she still had the presence of mind to realise that antagonising her was probably a very bad idea, for herself and for her father.

Narcissa reached for her again, touched her face, and then cupped her cheek again.

"You don't need to keep secrets from your family, Calista."

"Yes I do," Calista replied, without quite realising she was going to say it out loud.

"No," Narcissa insisted, and still she managed a tenderness in her voice, even though Calista was fully aware of the the fact that she was not giving Narcissa much cause for tenderness. "Your family will protect you, from whatever you're afraid of. Can't you see that, in the way that your father is constantly looking out for your best interests, in the way that Lucius and I are dealing with your problem classmate? Families keep secrets  _for_  one another, not from one another. You know what you need to tell your father..."

Narcissa let her hand fall from Calista's face, and reached for her nearest hand instead. "And I have a hunch there is a secret that you need to tell me, too."

"No," Calista said, and she was saying no to both telling her father about Marcus, and telling Narcissa whatever it was that Narcissa  _thought_  she wanted to know.

"Darling," Narcissa coaxed, "I see you look as though you want to cry every time your mother is mentioned, although you always try to hide it; you don't need to be strong all the time. It is quite alright to admit that you wish she was here for you."

" _No_ ," Calista said again, and she wrenched her hand free from her aunt's. "I don't wish she was here. And you know what else?"

Calista knew she was being reckless now, but the pulse of rage was at her skin again; she couldn't take it anymore, couldn't hear one more word about how she was  _supposed_  to feel about her mother.

"I hope she stays in Azkaban forever," Calista said, "I  _hate_ her, and I hate the way that everyone here talks about her, like she's someone I should  _want_  to be like. None of you have any idea what she's really like, or if you do, then it's just plain cruel to keep talking to me about her."

She hadn't planned on saying any of that, and even though logically she knew she was only getting herself, perhaps even her father, in trouble, she couldn't deny that saying it was like lifting a weight off of her shoulders. The rage inside of her cooled, and retreated.

Narcissa was trying to regard her levelly, but Calista could see a mingled confusion and pain in her eyes.

"What is she really like, Calista?" she asked softly. Something in the set of her face wrenched the words out of Calista.

"Those things she did," she said, and she was alarmed to discover that tears were filling her eyes again, and that this time, she could not will them away, "To those Muggles, that got her into Azkaban. She did all those things to me, too. Short of… short of k-killing me, although she would have done that, too, if it would have helped."

"I know she was not always kind to you," Narcissa said, and there was something in her voice that Calista sensed was begging Calista to take back what she had said, to admit that she was exaggerating. Perhaps she had tears in her eyes too, but Calista's own were too blurred to tell her so. "But surely she loved you. You don't mean… you can't mean that… that you believe she would have truly hurt you."

Calista was  _not_  exaggerating, though, and she was tired of having to pretend that her mother was anything other than her enemy. She supposed her father would be irate with her for having said all of this to Narcissa, but she thought a bit savagely that if he wanted a say in what she revealed, he bloody well should have come up here himself.

"No," Calista said, her voice catching. "She… she didn't love me. If she did, she couldn't've…" she swallowed. "She told me she would sacrifice me to help the Dark Lord."

"But surely she didn't mean it…"

"I guess I don't know," Calista said bitterly, wiping her eyes again, "She never got the chance. But everything else… are you going to tell me that she didn't mean-that she didn't mean to C-Crucio me? Or that she didn't mean to pull my hair, or kick me, or any of the other things she did to me all the time? Was that just… was it an accident when she tortured me, she meant to hug me instead but just got it wrong?"

Calista didn't know what she expected from Narcissa. More denial, perhaps, or more questions. Sadness, pity, rage… all of those things seemed within the realm of possibility. What she had  _not_  considered as a possibility was that Narcissa would leap up from her chair, and envelop Calista in a soft, tight hug.

But that was what happened. And the worst thing of all… or perhaps the best thing, she didn't know how to think of any of this, anymore… was that the feeling of her aunt's arms around her made Calista ache sharply for something she didn't even know she still wanted. She remembered dreaming, once, that Bellatrix had wanted to apologise for the way she'd treated her, wanted to make amends and start fresh. She remembered dreaming that Bellatrix had wanted to actually be her  _mother._

She'd been so ashamed, then, of wanting such a thing, even in the tiniest part of herself, and she felt the same familiar shame filling her heart up, now, as Narcissa pressed Calista's face to her shoulder, and rubbed her back comfortingly with her other hand. She waited for the mistake, for the rejection, for Narcissa to push her coldly aside and tell her that she was foolish for wanting any part of this…

"I'm so sorry, darling," Narcissa whispered, still holding her close. "I had no idea…"

When it did not appear as if Narcissa  _was_ going to push her aside, Calista felt something inside of her, some protective dam she had built up somewhere in her, break loose, and she stopped trying to control the flow of her tears, stopped trying so hard to hide the depth of both her hatred for Bellatrix and her pain at what Bellatrix had done to her. She cried like she had not cried for a very long time, like she had never done in front of anyone but her father.

"I love you, Calista," Narcissa murmured, and Calista could hear the tears choking her aunt's voice, as well. "And I'm  _so_  sorry I let that happen to you."

Calista let herself wrap her arms around her aunt, too, and Narcissa didn't seem to mind, which made Calista cry harder. They stood like that for quite some time, and Calista couldn't make any words come out of her mouth; but as the moments passed, she felt more and more like she didn't need to.

Narcissa, who had always struck Calista as mostly kind, but slightly emotionally distant, kept her arms around her niece, kept making circles on her back with the palm of her hand, didn't say anything else but didn't let go, either. It occurred to Calista for the first time to be jealous of Draco, who had certainly got the better end of the bargain when it came to which of the Black sisters he belonged to; but then, did it matter? Just now, just in this moment, Calista felt as if she, too, belonged to Narcissa.

"Severus," Narcissa said softly, her voice still strong with emotion, and Calista realised that her father must have come into the room; she wondered how long ago, wondered how long she had been standing here, clinging to her aunt like a much younger child. "Why didn't you tell us?"

There was a brief silence, which Calista used to lift her head and dash her hand across her eyes, to extricate herself, finally, from her aunt's supportive embrace. She chanced a glance at her father, who didn't look cross with her at all, looked only quite solemn and more than a little sad.

"It was never my truth to tell," he said quietly. "Calista… Calista reveals her secrets in her own time, a fact that I myself still have difficulty accepting."

"No one condones the way Bellatrix treated you, Calista," Narcissa said. "I want you to understand that."

"Thank you," Calista said weakly, finding her voice at last. "I think I… I think I really needed you to say that."

She sniffed, and rubbed at her eyes again, and then, because she couldn't stand the weight of either her father's or her aunt's stares any longer, she walked over to her school trunk, and shifted a few things around, before pulling the lid closed.

She heard soft footsteps across the thick rug as someone left the room; then, the familiar weight of her father's arm came down around her shoulders.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked her, as gently as he had ever asked her anything.

She looked up, her head filled with a hollow, shivery post-crying feeling, and nodded gratefully.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

She had many chances over the summer to reflect on what Narcissa had said, regarding Bellatrix and regarding Marcus. She knew, better now than she ever had before, that Narcissa meant well with her advice, that her aunt did truly believe that it was a good idea to tell her father about Marcus, and for a good several days after she returned home from her week at the Malfoys', she considered it.

Once, at dinner, she had nearly done it, nearly burst out with the truth of it while the two of them sat across from each other, discussing the next curse she would learn, and cutting their chicken into smaller pieces.

Always, though, she backed off before she told him. There was a very small chance that Narcissa would be correct, that Severus would have somewhat of an open mind regarding her relationship with Marcus; but what if he  _didn't_? Calista did not know if she had it in her to truly disobey her father, to do directly the opposite of what he said, and what if what he said was that she was forbidden from seeing Marcus?

And then, on the opposite hand, she  _really_  liked Marcus, and she didn't know if she'd be able to stand it if Severus treated him poorly, or if they  _were_  forbidden from seeing each other. In light of the risks, it seemed safer to keep her secret, and to hope that the world would be complicit in her plan.

She exchanged letters back and forth with him for the remainder of the summer, in the same vein as the second one she had sent, and she felt a warm glow inside her chest, in the apples of her cheeks, every time he wrote that he missed her, or that he was looking forward to seeing her again.

She exchanged other letters, too: she wrote back to Kim, and she had a few letters to and from Percy. She wrote to Penny about the dueling club, asked if her friend would be willing to help her put the question of it to Flitwick, and Penny wrote back that she was interested in trying to convince him.

She wrote to Emily again, too, because she still felt she owed her another chance, though she was still slightly wary of getting too close to her. She wrote to Eva and Sofia; Sofia had sent her three pages of gossip, and Eva, predictably, had asked her if she'd managed to acquire any dungbombs yet.

There was a letter from Olivia again, too, which seemed ludicrous, in light of everything that had happened at Malfoy Manor. Evidently, though, Lucius had not yet spoken to Olivia's parents, because the letter contained yet another passive-aggressive missive summoning her for a visit at her Bearsden town house. She promptly burned that letter to ashes, betting that the Ministry would assume a stray flame spell in her home had originated from Severus.

She didn't bother writing to Amelia, once they had realised they lived so close to each other, but at least once a week she either had Amelia over to her house, or she and Amelia each took a bus downtown, and met there for lunch. It was difficult to choose which she liked better, because she did feel like she had to be on her best behavior when they were at her home and Severus was there, but meeting Amelia downtown was almost no better, for all the safety lectures Severus gave her before begrudgingly seeing her off.

Inevitably, the day came for her father to take her to Diagon Alley, to pick up her new Potions supplies, and the remainder of her new school books. She had already cajoled him into purchasing her Charms book and one of her Ancient Runes books earlier in the summer, so she could look them over, but she still had to obtain the rest of them.

She didn't mind, though. Since her first year, Flourish and Blotts had been her favourite school shopping stop. This year, however, she wasn't  _quite_  as single-minded as usual, didn't race immediately to the Magical Theory section as soon as they had arrived at Diagon Alley. She craned her neck, looking around at all of the shops, because she didn't know what day Marcus was going shopping; she wasn't certain if she wanted to run into him or not, considering that her father was with her.

She didn't see him, though, and after an hour she gave up on the idea, and let herself be drawn, like a magnet, towards the bookstore. She ducked inside the doorway, weaving through clusters of students and their parents, taking one final visual inventory of the store, in case Marcus  _was_  here, and she had missed him. And then… and then, her eyes caught on a figure who was standing by the registers, and she felt her heart stop.

It was Bellatrix; Bellatrix was  _here_ , in Flourish and Blotts, and she was paying for a pile of books, as if it were the most normal thing in the world… why hadn't anyone else noticed her? Why weren't people running away, screaming?

Calista had to leave, she knew she had to leave, but her feet were rooted to the floor; her head felt light, and her heart had started beating again, and was pounding in double-time to make up for stopping. She needed to  _go_ , before Bellatrix turned her head and  _saw_  her, she needed… she needed…

Somehow, she regained just enough of her mental faculties to remember that her father wasn't far away, that she could call out to him.

_Help_ , she broadcast, mentally,  _She's here, help me!_

Things moved very quickly then, as if the world had paused along with her heart, and was also seeking to fill the void of the time it had lost; in what felt like less than a second, Bellatrix had turned, and was walking towards her, eyes locking onto her face; Calista realised that the people in the store, closest to her, were beginning to stare at her as if there was something wrong with her; and Severus appeared behind her, and was pulling her out of the store, saying something to her over and over.

They were outside now, in an alley beside the shop; Calista's back was to the brick wall of the side of the shop, and Severus was standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, still speaking, but she couldn't hear him; then she realised, belatedly, that she couldn't hear him because she was screaming, and she stopped, so she could listen, in case he was telling her how to get away.

"It's not her!" Severus was saying, intently. "Calista, it's not her, calm down; She's not here, you're still safe."

"It's her," she croaked, breathlessly; she could feel a tight ache in her throat, from screaming.

"No," Severus said, leaning close to her, so that his face was all she saw; somehow this did make her feel calmer, because if Bellatrix was approaching, at least Calista couldn't see her. "It isn't her, Calista, I promise it's not. It's her sister, Andromeda."

He kept telling her this, over and over, and in between he reminded her that she was safe; something clicked in her brain, and she felt suddenly as if she were seven years old, sitting upright in terror in her bed in the little bedroom she had in Severus' rooms at Hogwarts. And now, just like then, her father had strong hands on her shoulders, a smooth, deep, reassuring voice that was telling her that her nightmares were not real, that she was safe; and even though now, just like then, everything in her body was telling her that she was in danger, that she had to run, his words managed to penetrate her brain, to allow her to come down from the high of her terror, shaking and weak, but aware that she was still very much alive.

"It's not her," Calista repeated, faintly, somewhere between a declaration and a question.

"No," Severus said, "It's not her."

She nodded, and tried to find her breath; she felt the stickiness of tears on her face, and then she was grounded in reality enough to realise that she had just made a gigantic scene at Flourish and Blotts, in front of Merlin only knew how many of her schoolmates  _and_  their parents.

"Oh no," Calista groaned, "Everyone is… everyone is going to think I'm mental."

"Calista?" came a hesitant female voice; she turned her head, and Severus pulled back enough for her to see around him.

Nymphadora Tonks was standing at the mouth of the alley, looking at her with wide-eyed concern on her heart-shaped face. "Are you… are you alright?"

The figure Calista had seen in the store loomed behind Tonks; and even now, even when Calista knew it wasn't Bellatrix, her mind still wanted to see her that way, still pinged faintly at her to  _run run run_. She felt the reassuring grip of her father's hands still on her shoulders, and only when she knew fully that he still stood between her and whoever that figure was, could she let herself focus on the woman, search out the subtle differences between her and Bellatrix.

Her hair was lighter than Bellatrix's, and that was very near where the differences ended. Slowly, Tonks and the woman approached closer, until they were each only a few steps from Calista. Severus hovered tensely over Calista, ready to leap to her comfort if she lost touch with reality again; in a split second it occurred to Calista quite fiercely that she loved her father very much, and her mind was still so open in the aftermath of her panic that she suspected he could sense the emotion in her. When his eyes widened and softened just slightly, she knew it for a fact.

"Calista," Tonks said again, carefully, "This is my mother, Andromeda Tonks."

"She thinks I'm Bellatrix," the woman supplied, in a voice that was thankfully different enough from Bellatrix's to ease Calista's nerves just slightly. She allowed herself to look again at the woman's face, and she noticed that her eyes were a bit wider than her mother's, and she suspected they would be softer, were they not touched by a mild irritation just now. "Tell me, child, what has my sister done to  _you_  that put you into such a fright?"

But Calista's heart was still racing, and she couldn't… there were a dozen ways she had envisioned the scenario of the truth of her parentage coming out, and this was worse than any of them.

Severus' eyes roamed her face, and then he flicked them back towards Nymphadora and Andromeda. "Leave us," he commanded firmly, and then, as an afterthought added, "Please."

They did leave, Tonks casting one last uncertain glance over her shoulder at Calista.

"I'm sorry," Severus said to her, quietly. "It never occurred to me to warn you. Are you going to be alright?"

"Please," Calista said, "I want to go home."

Severus nodded, and pulled himself back, standing up straight. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, and placed his hand at her elbow instead. For a fraction of a moment, he began to lead her back out of the alley the way they had come; but perhaps her mind was still open to him, because he changed his mind and led her instead to the darkness at the back of the alley, gripped her arm firmly, and Apparated them back home.

"I'll go back tomorrow," Severus said, "And pick up the rest of your books. Why don't you invite your friend Amelia over to keep you company, when I go?"

Calista nodded, seizing on the normalcy of that plan. She realised that her father had forgotten to call her Miss Slater, or perhaps she had just been over their house so many times now that it seemed absurd.

"Yeah, Amelia," Calista echoed, and she thought that she would give almost anything in that moment to have nothing more humiliating in her mind than trying to set Amelia's oven on fire.

She knew there had been plenty of people in the bookstore, and those that weren't there would likely hear about what had happened from those who were. It was the most humiliating thing she could imagine, and she had somehow done it to herself, without Olivia's help at all.  _What_  was she going to do when school started?


	2. Chapter 2

Calista ducked her head as soon as she was beyond the magical barrier that served as the entrance to Platform 9¾. Her father had offered to escort her to the train, but she thought the only thing worse than being made fun of for losing her mind in Flourish and Blotts would be having everyone call her an ickle baby on top of it for having to have her father tag along.

A porter came along and took her trunk, leaving her with just her Arithmancy book - she'd kept it out separate because all of Marcus' letters were tucked into the front cover - and her cat's crate.

Her plan was to avoid  _everyone_ , find a place on the train to hide, and hope that she could miraculously escape the notice of all of her classmates until enough time had passed for them to forget whatever they'd heard. Admittedly, it wasn't a particularly  _good_  plan, but it's what she had.

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending - she was only able to follow it for about fifteen seconds, before someone was shouting her name.

"Calista! Hey, Calista!"

She looked up at the sound of his voice; she couldn't help it, even if he was going to make fun of her -

_but when had he ever made fun of her?_

\- she still wanted to see him again, wanted him to give her that grin. And he did; he stopped right in front of her, offering it up.

She couldn't help but smile back, even though she still had the knot of tension in her chest for what was sure to come from the rest of the students.

"Hey," she said back, "I missed you."

"Me too," he said, and he glanced over her shoulder quickly. "Er… your dad isn't here, is he?"

"No," she said, "He's back out there," she gestured beyond the brick wall that divided the platform from the rest of the station.

"Good," Marcus said, and he leaned towards her, putting his hand on her shoulder. He paused, his face only inches from hers. "Er..." he said, a question in his eyes, "You do still want me to kiss you, right?"

And there was her first blush of the school year; she had a feeling it wouldn't be her last. She nodded, quickly. "Yeah," she said, "Of course I do."

He looked relieved, and then he did kiss her, a soft, sweet kiss that made her face burn all the way to the tips of her ears, and also loosened just a bit of the nervous tangle inside her.

"Man," Marcus said, pulling back to look at her again. "You're so -" he stopped, and turned a little red himself.

"What?" she asked, suspiciously. Was he about to say that she was a bad kisser? She probably  _was_ , but what was she supposed to do about it? She had never exactly practised before…

"Nothing," Marcus said, shaking his head. "Forget it."

She would have scowled at him, as her default reaction to something she wasn't certain of, but then he reached for Yellow's crate.

"Let me take that," he said, "It's your cat, right? That grey one that hates everyone?"

As if on cue, Yellow let out a resentful growl.

She managed a small, crooked smile. "He doesn't hate  _me_ ," she said.

"Yeah," Marcus said with a chuckle. "Just like your dad. Where d'you want to sit? I have a Quidditch meeting at the back of the train, but I'll come find you after."

"Uhm," she said, "I dunno… I guess just… somewhere alone."

Marcus grinned at her, and by the time she realised he'd misinterpreted her, it would have been more embarrassing to clarify than to just let it go.

He found a compartment near the back of the train that was empty, and put Yellow's crate down inside. "So… so I'll come here, when I'm done with the team, okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, I'll be here."

There was an awkward moment, where they looked at each other, and almost kissed again, but then both of them flushed, and Marcus backed out of the compartment, scratching the back of his head. Calista sat down, and opened her Arithmancy book to a random page, hoping the matter-of-factness of numbers and charts would help cool her cheeks.

The compartment door slid open; Calista looked up at the sound, to see none other than a fuschia-haired Nymphadora Tonks entering the compartment. Well, she didn't have to worry about blushing anymore; she could feel her face rapidly draining of colour.

"Hey," Tonks said, "I've been looking for you."

"I've been hiding," Calista said, shortly, over the top of her Arithmancy book.

"Yeah," Tonks said, and instead of taking the hint and leaving, she sat down across from Calista. "I kind of thought you might be. I mean, I know I would, if it were me… not that I think you  _should_ , mind you, I just… blargh, hang on, let me start again, that was awful."

She shook her head, as if to clear it, and rolled her eyes with a self-deprecating little smile. "What I mean is," she said, "I figured you'd be embarrassed about what happened, at the bookstore, but I just want you to know that you shouldn't be."

"Oh, okay," Calista said, lowering her book slightly. " _I_  thought going spare in front of half the school at a bookstore was embarrassing, but if you say it's not…"

"Yeah, well, that part maybe just a bit," Tonks said sheepishly, "But, y'know… the  _reason_ … I mean, my mum gets that a lot."

"She gets people screaming bloody murder in the checkout line a lot?"

"Well, not that  _exactly_."

"Yeah," Calista said, scowling. "I didn't think so."

"I'm just saying," Tonks said, "Maybe some people will take the piss out of you for it, but there's loads more who would understand. I dunno what she did - er, you know, the real Bellatrix, not my mum - to your family, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but… well, I can understand a few of the reasons you might be afraid to see someone that looks like her, yeah? S'why I want to be an Auror, when I graduate, really - 'cause I know what people like her are capable of, if they're not stopped."

"You're going to be an Auror?" Calista asked, tilting her head. She lowered her Arithmancy book further.

"Well, I  _hope_  so," Tonks said, "If they accept me. I've gotta stop blowing up my cauldron first, though."

"You too?" Calista said, closing the cover of her book and settling it on her lap. "Why do so many people manage to do that? Or are you doing it on purpose, like Percy's brothers?"

Tonks chuckled. "No," she said, "Definitely not on purpose, although it doesn't surprise me one bit that Fred and George would do that.  _My_  problem is that I'm so damn clumsy. Last year, I got a zero on my Polyjuice Potion by sneezing."

"Hang on," Calista said, wrinkling her nose. "You sneezed in your potion? And that ruined it?"

"No," Tonks said, with a look of chagrin. "I had this really violent sneeze - like, I swear it echoed throughout the entire dungeon - you probably heard it in your common room, it was that bad. And I brought my arm up, you know, to cover it, and I hit the table - knocked over my lacewing flies, the whole jar."

"Oh, no," Calista said, "After… after you stewed them?"

"Yup," Tonks said, "Twenty-one days of keeping those blasted things safe in my dormitory room, and then I  _sneeze_ them all onto the floor. There wasn't anything I could do, I couldn't make the potion without them. At least it doesn't really matter, for me. I mean, I don't need a potion to look different, do I?"

She wrinkled her nose, and changed it into a bird-like beak, illustrating her point. She changed it back, and shook her head.

"Still, there's certain things they want you to have, to be considered for the training," she said, "Too bad for me Potions is one of them."

"What else do you need?" Calista wondered.

But Tonks never had the chance to answer, because there was a commotion outside their compartment door just then, and a tirade of laughter, and then the door slid open. A couple of seventh-year Hufflepuffs grinned in at them - or, more accurately, at Tonks.

"Tonksy!" the male said, "Where have you been? You'll never believe what happened with your Weasley and Jane Ridley over the summer -"

"It's brilliant," the girl said. Calista noticed she was wearing a Prefect badge. "You'll love it - can we come in?"

Tonks stood up, and faced her friends at the doorway. "Sorry, you lot," she said cheerfully, "I'm kind of in the middle of something. I'll catch up with you later, in the carriage, yeah?"

They agreed reluctantly, and Tonks slid the compartment door closed again, and looked at Calista, rolling her eyes. "Everything's just the biggest news since Sneakoscopes were invented, with them," she said, apologetically. "Probably Jane Ridley blinked funny at Charlie, or something, and now it's a national headline."

Calista remembered what Tonks had told her last year, that she had once had a major crush on Charlie Weasley, and then he had started dating Jane Ridley. She had a feeling that Tonks was actually quite interested in what had happened over the summer. If it were gossip about Marcus, Calista would definitely want to know.

"It's okay," Calista said, "You can… you can go with them, if you want."

Tonks waggled her fingers, sitting back down. "Nah, they can wait. I forget what I was saying now, but anyway, I just wanted to tell you not to worry about that whole bookstore thing too much. It'll… people will forget, if they haven't already. Maybe Jane Ridley did something worse this summer, who knows?"

"Your mum looked pretty cross," Calista ventured.

"Yeah, well, I think that had more to do with genetics than with you," Tonks said. "I mean, yeah it annoys her when someone mistakes her for that evil bint, but it's not like you're the first one to do it. Anyway, she mostly felt bad for you, for whatever it was Bellatrix did to freak you out so bad when you thought you saw her. I felt real bad, too."

"She…" Calista began. "She… if I tell you something… can you promise not to… not to hate me?"

"'Course," Tonks said, "You can't hate someone you've shared hot chocolate with, that's just a fact."

Calista felt her fingers trembling, against the cover of her textbook. She was going to do it, she was finally going to do it… she'd been close to telling Tonks on several other occasions, and had always gotten cold feet. But her father and Narcissa were right, and she'd already learned that in the most embarrassing way she could imagine: it was probably going to come out, eventually. At least Tonks was related to her, too. Maybe she would understand, after all.

"She…" Calista took a deep breath, released it with a shudder, and went on quickly: "She's my mother. Bellatrix."

Tonks' eyes widened, then she blinked rapidly, and shook her head.

"Well," Tonks said, "I guess she wasn't much of one, by the reaction you had when you thought you saw her."

"Imagine what you think it'd be like," Calista said, and there was a trace of bitterness in her voice, but otherwise she managed to control her emotions, "And then make it a hundred times worse."

"That's a rough lot. I'm sorry about that."

"Well," Calista said, awkwardly. "It's not your fault. Or your mum's.  _I'm_ sorry about that."

"She's over it, already. Mostly. Don't worry." Then she grinned. "Hey, I've just realised - that makes us cousins."

"Yeah," Calista said, "I knew that. My dad told me, a while ago. I wanted to say something to you, but that meant admitting… well, you know."

"Wicked," Tonks said, "I've always wanted a cousin. Well, one that acknowledged my existence, you know? I guess we've got another one, but I've never met him."

"Draco," Calista said, "I have. He's… I don't know, I like him. He is a bit spoilt, though."

"Yeah," Tonks said, "Mum's been burned out of the family tree - literally - and me too, by extension, so I guess I'll never meet any of them, unless it's so they can spit on me, or something."

"They're okay with me, so far," Calista said, and then she voiced something that had been bothering her for quite some time, but hadn't really known who she could mention it to, "But I'm afraid of what happen, if they find out I have friends who are… you know, who aren't…"

"Pureblood racist pricks?" Tonks supplied helpfully.

"Well, yeah," Calista said, "Basically. I mean, I kind of just ignore it when they talk about… about mixed blood being bad, and all that, but sometimes I worry about them finding out that I don't really care about junk like that."

"Well," Tonks said, "If you want my advice - and I'm not saying you do - but I don't think being burned out of the Black family tree is the worst thing that can happen to a person."

Their compartment door slid open again. This time, it was Marcus, and he had his broomstick in his hand. He looked mildly confused to see Tonks there, but he stepped in, anyway, and smiled a greeting to Calista.

"Hey," Tonks said, shooting a knowing glance at Calista, "I'm gonna get going now - I need to find out if Jane's still got her claws in Charlie. I'll… I'll catch up with you later, right Calista?"

"See you later," Calista agreed. "And, Tonks? I just… Thanks."

"No problem, -oof!" Tonks started, before managing to walk straight into the doorframe. "When'd they put that here?"

Marcus chuckled as she left, although it didn't appear to be maliciously. As soon as Tonks had gone, Marcus slid the door closed again, and wedged his broomstick into the door handle, so no one could come in after them.

"Saw a couple of second years out there, with a handful of dungbombs," he said, by way of explanation. "No sense letting them come in here."

Calista slid over in her seat, making room for him to sit next to her. She set her Arithmancy book aside, on her other side.

Marcus loped over, and craned his neck to look at the cover of her book. "Advanced Arithmancy, again?" he teased, "Thought it wasn't your favourite."

"It's not," she said, trying not to blush as he settled next to her, and draped his arm over her shoulders. "Advanced, or… er, my favourite."

He leaned towards her, and kissed her cheek. "No? Why're you reading it on the train, then?"

"I'm not," she said, and she could feel her heart beginning to pick up speed, but in a way that didn't seem frightening. "I'm not reading anything, now."

"What  _are_  you doing, then?" He leaned his forehead against the side of her head; she could feel his breath, warm and close, tickling her cheek, the side of her neck. The flutter in her stomach was back, but there was something else, too.

She felt lighter, freer than she had when she'd first seen him, on the platform. Maybe it was simply the fact that she'd been reassured that he definitely still liked her, or maybe it was not seeing him for the entire summer, or maybe it had nothing to do with him at all, but more to do with how it felt to tell someone, finally, a secret that had weighed her down for nearly her entire life.

Whatever the reason was, she felt bolder. She turned her face towards his, feeling a small, sly smile begin.

"I'm kissing my boyfriend," she said, and then she did.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista and Marcus hadn't actually kissed for the entire remainder of the train ride, although they did manage to do a lot of that, too. They had talked, about his Quidditch meeting, and about their summers, and how they were going to handle their relationship in the coming school year.

Calista had almost,  _almost_  told him about the incident at Flourish and Blotts, and why it had unsettled her so much, but it didn't appear as if he'd heard about it yet, and she wanted a little more time to get used to the idea of telling people. Besides, just because Tonks had taken the identity of Calista's mother surprisingly well didn't mean that anyone else would. She decided not to say anything, yet.

Marcus wanted to be open about the fact that they were an item now, but Calista had insisted that it had to be a secret, still, at least as well as they could keep it. She told him that she still hadn't thought of a way to tell her father that wouldn't make him unbearably cross. Marcus didn't seem to completely understand why they couldn't just admit they were together, but he also didn't want to get Calista in trouble, so he reluctantly agreed to try not to be too obvious.

His resolve threatened to weaken when they got off the train, and Calista insisted they take separate carriages to the school. When he saw Amelia beckoning her impatiently to join her, Percy, and Penelope, Marcus frowned.

"Why can't we just go together?" he asked, and for some inexplicable reason, he glared at her Arithmancy book, as if it were the one insisting that Calista travel to the school without him.

"I told you, I don't want my dad to see us… sometimes he waits for me, in the Entrance Hall."

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "I think he already knows," he said, "I mean it, he was real cross with me at the end of last term."

"He doesn't know," Calista said, "Maybe he  _suspects_ , but he doesn't know."

"I just…" Marcus said, and then he scowled over Calista's shoulder. Amelia and Percy had come up behind her, at either side.

"Come  _on_ , Calista," Amelia said, "Penny's holding the carriage, we've got to go." she glanced at Marcus. "Are you… are you coming, too?"

"I dunno…" Marcus started, but Calista interrupted, anxiety pinching her features.

"I'll see you at dinner, okay?" she said. As far as she knew, Marcus didn't have any friends outside of Slytherin. If her father saw him getting out of a carriage with Calista and her group of friends, he would  _definitely_ wonder what was going on.

Marcus frowned, and nodded reluctantly.

"You'd be dreadfully bored, anyway," Percy said, in what Calista suspected was an attempt to soften the blow, but in actuality made it seem even worse. "We'll probably just be reviewing Arithmancy notes."

Marcus scowled, and opened his mouth to reply, but then Penny was yelling for them from the doorway of the carriage.

"If you lot don't hurry up, I'm going to the castle myself!"

Amelia looped her arm through Calista's, and the three of them hurried back to where Penny had the carriage waiting.

Calista didn't see Marcus' expression of mixed hurt and resentment, as he watched them go. She didn't see Olivia approaching him with a sweet, charming smile fixed on her face, either.

As it turned out, they didn't discuss Arithmancy in the carriage at all, but instead, Penelope brought up the idea she, Calista, and Amelia had had about a dueling club.

"I think we should ask Professor Flitwick," Penny said, "At worst, he might say no, but if he does agree to run one, think of how joining a dueling club would look on our employment applications in a few years."

"Also," Amelia said, "Think of how much fun it would be to hex cows like Portia Macnair without getting in trouble."

Percy frowned, disapprovingly. "Amelia, that's not at all the spirit we should have about this. Professor Flitwick will never agree, if that's what -"

"No kidding," Amelia interrupted. "That's why  _I'm_  not going to ask him, Calista and Penny are."

"Well,  _I_  want to hex Portia, too," Calista said.

Percy and Penny exchanged a glance, and Penny rolled her eyes.

"Maybe don't say that part to Professor Flitwick," she advised.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When their timetables arrived on the first morning of term, Portia bounded out of bed to snatch them all up before anyone else. She shuffled through them, obnoxiously commenting on everyone's but her own.

"Oooh, look, Snapelet's in remedial Transfiguration again, I wonder if four years is a new school record?"

"If you're going to be a nosy cow, at least get it right," Calista said, rubbing her eyes and sitting up in bed. "I didn't take it first year. Now, give me that."

Portia ignored her, passing her eyes over the rest of the sheet. "Elective studies on Saturdays," she observed. "That's basically just extra detention, isn't it?"

"Give me my timetable, you nosy twit," Calista said, throwing the covers off and striding over to Portia. She snatched her timetable with a pale, skinny arm, and sat down on the edge of her bed to look it over herself.

It wasn't too awful, considering. She had Transfiguration and Astronomy on Mondays, with the afternoons in between free, Charms and Herbology on Tuesdays, double Potions and History of Magic on Wednesday, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy on Thursdays, and Defence Against the Dark Arts and Remedial Transfiguration on Fridays. She still had her so-called Elective Studies on Saturday mornings, like Portia had said. There was a notation in the corner of her schedule, like last year, except that this one was much more welcome than the "provisional" notice of last year.

This one listed a date and time for Charms Peer Tutor Orientation with Professor Flitwick during the second week of term. That was  _much_  preferable to wondering whether she'd be knocked down to first year Transfiguration.

"Ooh, what has Emmy got?" Portia had moved onto the next timetable in the stack. "Arithmancy with Snapelet… Muggle Studies? What the hell are you taking Muggle Studies for?"

Emily was sitting up now, and she blanched. "Stop it, Portia. My… my mum wanted me to take it, all right?"

"Maybe Snapelet should take Muggle Studies, too," Olivia piped up, from where she stood in front of her open wardrobe door, carefully brushing her long, blonde hair. "Since she and Emily are  _best_  friends now, and since she's such a big fan of Mudbloods."

"Shut it, you miserable cow," Calista snarled.

Emily flushed pink. "Olivia," she said, placatingly, "Come on, you know  _you're_ my best friend."

"I don't know that at all," Olivia said, "Since you helped Snapelet steal  _my_  boyfriend."

"I only told her he wanted to talk to her-" Emily began, but Calista cut her off.

" _Your_  boyfriend?" Calista challenged incredulously. "You didn't even  _like_  him until you thought I did."

"It's too bad he needed help in Potions." Olivia smirked. "If it were any other subject, I'm sure he'd be snogging someone else right now."

"Shut  _up_ ," Calista howled, stalking over to her wardrobe and yanking her robes out.

Emily looked fretfully between them, and Portia had abandoned her perusal of Emily's timetable to stand by Olivia's shoulder, nodding fervently at everything Olivia said.

"In fact," Olivia said brightly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, "Maybe that  _is_  what he's doing, Snapelet. Maybe he has a different girlfriend for each subject he's failing -"

"That would be a lot of them, then," Portia guffawed.

"What do  _you_  think, Emily?" Olivia asked, her gaze slipping slyly to Emily, who hadn't even found enough bravery yet to take her timetable from Portia. "Do you suppose Marcus is…  _playing the field_  a bit?"

"Er…" Emily looked anguished, as she glanced at Calista, and then back at Olivia. "N-no, I don't reckon he is. I mean, probably not."

"Wrong answer," Olivia said snidely. "Have fun in Muggle Studies. Or is that the only book your mother could afford?"

Emily flushed pink, and looked very much like she might cry. Portia chuckled.

"Go to hell, Olivia," Calista said, with feeling. She climbed onto her bed, and pulled the curtains closed around it, so she could change into her robes.

"Come on, Portia," Olivia said loudly, "If we go to breakfast right now, I'll bet we can find seats next to the Quidditch team."

The door of their dormitory room slammed. Calista stuffed her arms into the sleeves of her robes, trying not to let Olivia bother her.

She heard the faint, whispery sounds of someone crying; as soon as she was dressed, she pulled her curtains open again, and saw Emily sitting on the edge of her bed, with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

"Em," Calista said awkwardly, scrambling off her own bed to stand by Emily. "It's… just ignore her, who cares what she thinks?"

Emily lifted her face; already, it was blotchy and shiny. " _I_  do," Emily said, "I need her and Portia. All of my friends are their friends, too, and if they don't like me, no one else will."

"That's not true," Calista said, "I still like you.  _Especially_  if you're done hanging around with the two of them."

"I can't… I can't have Olivia for an enemy," Emily said, weakly. "You know what she's like. I can't sleep in the same room as her as long as she hates me. I need to… need to go apologise to her, right now."

"Apologise for  _what_?" Calista sneered, but Emily was wiping her face, and hurrying into her robes, a determined expression on her face.

"Fine," Calista said, "Have it your way. I'm off."

When Calista got to the Great Hall, she was disappointed not to see Marcus there; but then again, since he wasn't there, Olivia hadn't been able to sit next to him. She was next to Derek Logan instead, and she was giggling obnoxiously at something he had said. Calista rolled her eyes, and sat down between Sofia and Eva, who promptly shifted to make room when she entered.

They were sitting with several of the new first-years, who Calista recognised by sight from the previous night, but didn't quite recall the names of; she'd been sitting with Marcus at the feast last night, and her attention had been divided between talking to him, and trying to make sure her father didn't notice how much she was talking to hm.

"Calista, you remember all of our new housemates, right?" Sofia asked, but she reintroduced them, anyway. "Tabitha Higgs - she's Terence's younger sister."

Terence Higgs was a sixth year who played Seeker on the Quidditch team. He had a large build for a Seeker, broad-shouldered and tall, with ginger hair and a smattering of freckles on his nose. His sister had the freckles, but her hair was dark blonde, and she was average-sized for her age.

"Hi," Calista said.

"And Mildred Bulstrode, Daisy Spratt - her brother's in your year, I think - and Alma Pierce."

Sofia smiled charmingly at each of the first years, who appeared grateful to have been taken under her wing so quickly… except for perhaps Mildred, who was sulky-looking and didn't particularly look grateful for anything.

"This is Calista Snape," Sofia said, "Yes - that Snape, he's her dad - she's in fourth year, and a good friend of ours, right Eva?"

Eva nodded, while she buttered a piece of toast.

"So if you get lost or anything, you can ask her, she'll help you out.  _Don't_ ask that other fourth year, Olivia Avril, for anything. She's kind of…" Sofia trailed off, searching for a diplomatic enough term.

"A bitch?" Eva supplied, slyly, and Calista grinned.

"I was going to say, she's kind of haughty," Sofia said.

"Or we could go with what Eva said," Calista agreed. "It's true."

"My brother told me that, too," Daisy said hesitantly. She was a pudgy girl, with muddled brown hair and a soft voice. "He said… he said Olivia was always calling him… nasty things."

 _Fat Spratt_ , Calista thought, but didn't say. She wondered if Olivia would start calling Daisy the same thing. Well, if she did, she was going to find trouble. Now that Sofia had introduced her the way she had, Calista couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for the new first year girls.

"Gretchen Nott's one of our new first years, too," Sofia said, and she nudged Calista, and pointed down the table to where Olivia was still fawning over Derek. Calista noticed a petite, dark-haired girl she only vaguely remembered from last night's Sorting trying to ingratiate herself into the fringes of Olivia and Portia's group. "But I guess she doesn't want anything to do with us."

"I don't care," Mildred said, "She seemed like a snob, anyway. I sat with her on the train, and she just kept wrinkling her nose at me, like I smelled funny or something."

Calista noticed that Alma wrinkled her nose, when Mildred said this; then she shot a glance down the table, at Olivia and her group.

"Tell them about the Bloody Baron, Calista," Eva encouraged.

Calista smirked. "Did I tell you, I had a run-in with him last year? I called him a bloody creep -"

"You did  _not_ ," Sofia said, torn between amusement and horror. "What did he - what did he do?"

"Shook his chains at me, mostly," Calista said, "It  _was_  really creepy, though, he came out of nowhere…"

She relayed the story, as well as a lot of the same 'wisdom' she'd relayed to Sofia and Eva, at the beginning of last year. She was telling them  _not_  to mess around in her father's class, when Marcus appeared, tapping her on the shoulder.

She looked up, surprised. She hadn't even noticed him entering the Great Hall. She glanced, immediately, towards the High Table, but her father had already gone. She relaxed, and allowed herself to smile up at Marcus.

"Hey," he said, "I'm gonna sit with the team, I just thought I'd say hi first."

"Okay," Calista said, and looking up at him, she could feel just a hint of a blush rising in her cheeks. She hated admitting to noticing such things, even still, but he  _did_  look… well, rather appealing. Even now, when he wasn't flashing her that lopsided grin, he had kind grey eyes, dark hair that fell into his face just a bit, and a tall, strong-looking build.  _How_ , exactly, had she managed to attract his attention, she wondered? "Uhm, hi, then."

"I'll see you later on," he continued, "Maybe… maybe I'll need to mail something, yeah?"

And then he was giving her that grin, and she felt the colour in her cheeks rising further. "Yeah," she said, "Uhm… me, too. Maybe."

When he left to join his teammates, and Calista returned to her conversation with Eva, Sofia, and the new first year girls, nearly all of them were looking at her knowingly.

"Who's  _he_?" Tabitha asked, "He's fit."

"He's  _mine_ ," Calista said, and it felt surprisingly good to say it. "Don't even think about it."

Sofia grinned at her. "I told you," she said, " _So_  cute together."

"Does your dad know yet?" Eva asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Calista said, "And anyone who tells him is getting their knees reversed." She glared at each of them, in turn, to illustrate her point.

"Ooh, I believe her," Sofia said, "You lot heard her, then. Keep your mouths shut."

Mouths weren't the only problem, Calista thought, frantically. Not where her father was concerned… she hoped they could all keep their  _minds_  shut, too.

How had she ever thought she could keep something like this secret? But she  _had_  to, if she had any chance of keeping it. She pushed the rest of her breakfast away, no longer hungry.

"I've got to go," she said, "Class."


	3. Chapter 3

When Calista went to Tutor Orientation for Charms, she was surprised by how few students there actually were who had volunteered. She had thought there would be a variety of students from each year, like she knew there was for McGonagall's class, but she was wrong.

She and Penelope had both been invited by Professor Flitwick to begin tutoring, and they were the youngest students in the Charms classroom on the Wednesday evening that Professor Flitwick had called them there to meet.

There were a pair of Ravenclaw Prefects, both of whom Penny seemed to be marginally friendly with - a sixth-year girl and a fifth-year boy whom Calista recalled seeing fairly often in the library. He seemed to start when she and Penny entered the room, and then he squared his shoulders in a way that very obviously drew attention to his new Prefect badge, and strode over to them.

"Oh, excellent, Penny, you did decide to sign up," the boy said, friendly enough; but then his eyes darted to her, and his expression wavered, slightly.

"Hi - erm, hello, Calista," he said, with much less enthusiasm. She scowled; she was used to students, especially those her age and older, knowing who she was, and she was  _also_ used to the strange and often unfriendly looks, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Still, he pressed on, evidently driven by a misguided sense of duty by the shiny badge at his chest.

He stuck his hand out. "I don't think we've officially met, although I've seen you in the library often enough; Gerald - Gerry Boot. If there's ever anything I can help with -"

She stopped listening as soon as she heard his name. _Gerry Boot_ ; now she knew why she'd wanted to dislike him, the moment she saw him. He was the one that had tormented Marcus.

Fortunately, Professor Flitwick entered then, and she pretended not to notice Boot's outstretched hand, as she turned towards the front of the classroom and shifted closer to Penny. She noticed that the room was still nearly empty. There were herself and Penny, and the two Ravenclaw Prefects.  Aside from them, there were only Jane Ridley, the Gryffindor girl that Tonks had rued losing Charlie Weasley to, and one sixth year Hufflepuff boy - both of whom, Calista noticed, were  _also_  Prefects. In fact, every single tutor in the room, aside from Calista and Penny, who were both too young, were Prefects.

She nudged Penny. "Hey,' she said quietly, "They're all Prefects - I wonder if doing tutoring like this helps you become one."

"Well, of course it does," Penny said, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Isn't that why you signed up?"

"Erm, no," Calista said, "I just… I just thought it would be neat, I guess."

She kept expecting more students to arrive, but no one else did. Was this really it?

"Professor Flitwick does the tutor thing differently than everyone else," Boot spoke up, as if he had heard her unspoken question. "Most of the other professors just have a list of students approved to help those that are struggling, and they're supposed to find their own time to meet with them. Flitwick wants you to show up at the same time every week, and help whoever needs it. It's more work, but it's worth it, his word carries a lot of weight if you can get a recommendation from him. Besides, nearly everyone who does it ends up being tapped for Prefect duties, if that's what you're after."

He displayed the badge on his chest, as if she could have possibly failed to notice it, the way he was practically thrusting it out, and he flushed proudly. "I'm nearly certain that's how I got it."

"Fascinating," Calista replied flatly, too aware of Professor Flitwick's presence to outright tell him to sod off.

"I mean," Boot went on, and his voice rose slightly as he told her, "It's just, I had so many detentions my first year."

She felt a surge of irritated anger, as she considered precisely  _how_ he must have earned those detentions, and decided it would probably be best to ignore him.

"Your - erm, Professor Snape doesn't use tutors, does he?" Boot ventured, a moment later.

"No, he doesn't." Calista said, coldly. "He says detentions work better."

"Yeah," Boot said, nodding. "He  _would_ say that, wouldn't he?"

Professor Flitwick stood up on his desk then, and cleared his throat, finally relieving Calista from being obligated to endure Boot's infuriating small talk.

"Welcome!" Flitwick said, "Thank you all for coming, first of all. We've had a few of our group graduate, so it's our first order of business to welcome their replacements - Miss Clearwater and Miss Snape, of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, respectively. I know they'll both be wonderful additions, and I trust that you older students who've done this before will offer your support if they need it."

He beamed around at all of them, and Calista thought it felt a bit as if she had joined some kind of club, rather than volunteered for peer tutoring. She hadn't known, until Gerald Boot told her, that Flitwick didn't run his tutoring program the same as Professor McGonagall did. She  _knew_  there were a lot more than six students available for Transfiguration tutoring, she'd seen a glimpse of McGonagall's list.

"A quick reminder of what's expected of you all," Flitwick continued. "I have a timetable that shows all of the times this classroom is empty, which I'll pass around. If each of you could just mark down two hours a week - consecutive or in two one-hour slots, it doesn't matter - where you can commit to making yourself available here as a tutor. More than one of you can be here at one time, but please do make sure you've got a good variety of time slots marked down, or I might have to redistribute you."

He summoned a sheet of parchment towards himself, from a side table next to his desk, and then he passed it to Jane, who was closest to him, and also the only seventh-year. "Here you are, Miss Ridley… if you could just fill in your time, and then pass it along, we'll get this settled right now."

He glanced around at each of them in turn; Calista thought he smiled at her, but then, he smiled a lot, so it could have been a coincidence.

"So - as long as you're here, any students that need a little extra practise can stop in, and you'll help them out. Sounds easy enough, yes? And I should be in my office, so if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

By then, the sign-up sheet had come around to Calista. She saw that Penny had put in for late Friday afternoons; she briefly considered signing up for the same time slot as Penny, but she knew that the Slytherin Quidditch team usually had their practises on Friday afternoons. She had not gone very often before, but now that she was dating Marcus… well, she almost felt like she was supposed to.

She scrawled her name in for Monday afternoons instead, for both of her hours, since she had nothing in between Transfiguration in the morning, and Astronomy at midnight, except for her own tutoring session with Percy, right after lunch.

It looked like everyone else had filled in their names already, so Calista handed the parchment back to Professor Flitwick. This time, he definitely did smile at her. Perhaps it was because of the essay she'd turned in yesterday, her first draft of her idea with the runes and  _Colloportus_. She'd been working on it over the summer.

"Ah, excellent," Flitwick said, looking over the revised timetable. "It looks like we'll have good coverage, then - don't forget, I'll be right in my office more often than not, so please, feel free to speak to me if you get a tricky question you can't answer - or if you have a tricky question of your own!"

He stepped down from the top of his desk, then, and dismissed them, although he remained in the classroom, and started talking to Jane Ridley. Some of the other started talking to each other; when Calista looked back at Penny, she was engaged in conversation with Gerald Boot.

Calista didn't much feel like trying to talk to anyone besides Penny, so she ducked her head and slipped out of the classroom, back towards the Slytherin Dungeon. So, tutoring on Mondays - well, there went her free afternoon - but still, this seemed like it might actually be fun, even though she didn't think  _she_  would ever be offered a Prefect position because of it. Not that she wanted one… did she?

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista began dreading her weekly Occlumency lessons; not because of the increasing difficulty, or the sacrifice of her Saturday mornings - a sacrifice she was used to by now anyway - but because of Severus' persistent suspicious needling, and the fact that it made it quite challenging to successfully push down her thoughts about Marcus.

Somehow, he knew that there was something she wasn't telling him, and his pointed questions were inserted here and there into their regular conversations, as if he thought he could startle her into a response; but if there was one thing Calista was exceptionally good at, it was keeping secrets, and he wouldn't quite resort to forcing them out of her, although Calista had a feeling he was tempted.

Marcus was still convinced that he already knew, but Calista knew that couldn't possibly be the case, or he would be doing a lot more than suspiciously inquiring about how she was spending her time between classes, and whether there was anything she wanted to tell him. Rather, Calista felt that he probably  _suspected_  that Marcus and Calista fancied each other; but as long as he didn't know that they were actually seeing each other, kissing in secret in the Owlery and on the train, there was little he could do. He couldn't tell her she wasn't allowed to fancy Marcus, but she had a feeling that he  _would_  tell her she wasn't allowed to act on her feelings - which is why she would just as soon keep him from finding out.

She wished he'd just stop asking; she was never going to tell him, no matter how often Narcissa strongly urged her to, and no matter how much Marcus wanted their relationship to be out in the open. Normally, Calista loved spending time with her father, but lately, she felt like she had to be on guard constantly, and it drained the joy out of seeing him.

Still, occasionally, they still had pleasant conversations. One Saturday, as their lesson was nearing its end, Severus asked her about her tutoring.

"How are you liking being a peer tutor?" he asked, as he tested the strength of her barriers, again.

"I like it," she said, "So far I've only had to tutor one person, a Hufflepuff first year, she was pronouncing her incantation wrong, for the Levitation Charm, but it's nice to be the one showing someone how to do something, instead of being the idiot that can't transfigure a mouse."

"Yes," Severus said, "You turn in a dozen extra Charms essays a year, you're at least two years ahead of curriculum in Potions, and you're possibly the youngest Occlumens in the world. You're such an idiot."

She couldn't help it; she lit up, glad for his praise - and from Severus, it was indeed praise, and she knew it.

"Actually," Severus said, withdrawing from her mind and lowering his wand, signalling the end of their lesson. "I thought perhaps you might want to begin private Potions lessons again, now that your schedule is a bit lighter."

"Yeah," she said, warming to him since he hadn't asked her any annoying questions all morning, "I miss that. When were you thinking?"

"My last class finishes at four o'clock on Fridays. Perhaps then?"

"Oh," Calista said, shifting uncomfortably. "I… uhm, the Quidditch team practises then… I was planning on going to watch."

"Which Quidditch team?" he asked.

Calista rolled her eyes, suddenly defensive. "Does it matter? Why do you even  _care_?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I merely thought to suggest that I might join you, if you were going to watch the Slytherin team. I know you watch the Gryffindor practises sometimes as well - which is why I asked for the clarification, but now I wonder if it is a different sort of clarification altogether that I should be seeking -"

"Seriously? You're going to start this  _again_? I told you, I have nothing to hide!"

"You're making a very compelling case for the opposite."

"You're making a very compelling case for being annoying," she quipped moodily.

"That doesn't even make sense," Severus pointed out dryly, "Come on, now, I expect much better than that from you."

"Okay," Calista said, rising from her seat in one of the armchairs in his study, "Fine. You're making a very compelling case for me leaving, now, and not coming back until I have another stupid Occlumency lesson."

Severus stood as well. "How much longer are you going to be a moody teenager?" he snarled. "I am finding I don't care for it at all."

"Maybe I wouldn't be so  _moody_  if you weren't so nosy."

"Perhaps I would not be so  _nosy_  if you were not so secretive," he replied, plaintively.

"Yes, you would. You always are."

"Ah," he said, "But you're always secretive."

She rolled her eyes, again. "I wonder why?" she pretended to muse. "No one  _else's_  father teaches at Hogwarts, you already know more about what I do than anyone else's parents do, and then you're always  _badgering_  me to find out even more."

"I do not badger," he said, "I inquire."

"You badger!" she insisted, "Badger, badger, badger! I'm so tired of it!"

"Oh, just go away," he said, because suddenly he was afraid he might laugh, and he didn't want to undermine himself by doing so. "I'm certain you can find some porridge to sulk into about how unfair I am."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The following Friday, Calista tried resolutely to push the lingering feeling of guilt she harbored deep into the recesses of her mind. Still, even as she watched Marcus zip around the pitch on his broom during practise, she couldn't help but think of her father, of the private potions lesson she had rejected for this. Couldn't he have suggested a different time? But then, perhaps Slytherin Quidditch practise was precisely why he hadn't.

Marcus only spent about half the practise trying out manoeuvers of his own; the rest of the time, he flitted between the other players on the team, offering instructions or criticisms of the way they were flying. Evidently, he took his duties as Captain quite seriously.

As she watched the team, all of them largish, well-built males, weave in and out of each other with evident flying skill, it occurred to Calista how absurd it had been for Marcus to press her to try out for the team at all. She wasn't a very good flyer, and even the Seeker, Terence Higgs, was a good deal larger than most of the players on any of the other school teams. She noticed that Marcus had not put any girls on the team, either, but then, maybe none had auditioned; she didn't know.

Marcus was definitely the best flyer on the team, in Calista's opinion. She thought he was the best-looking, too, but of course she was biased. When practise was finishing, and the team was walking off the field, Marcus caught her eye almost immediately, and Calista stepped out of the stands to meet him; she remembered, suddenly, the way that she had seen Jane Ridley walk right up to Charlie Weasley at the end of the Gryffindor practise last year and kiss him, and she had been envious of the way that Jane could do that so casually.

She wished she could too, and by the look that Marcus gave her, the way that he stepped up to her, quite close, and brought his arm around her waist, she thought that he wished that, too; but Olivia and Portia were watching the practise as well, and Olivia was only metres away, hanging onto Terence's arm and fluttering her eyelashes again.

Calista pulled back from Marcus, narrowing her eyes at Olivia. "Is there a single boy in this school that she  _isn't_  obsessed with?" Calista wondered, darkly.

Marcus shrugged, and slid his arm around her waist again. "Dunno," he said, "Who cares about her, anyway?"

He brought his face close to hers, and Calista  _wanted_  to kiss him, she really did; but even though Olivia was occupied, Portia was still watching them with narrowed eyes, and really, how did she know for certain that her father wasn't going to decide to turn up after all?

She pulled back, again. "Marcus, there's people around…" she protested. He scowled, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry," she said, "It's just… I just don't want my dad to say I'm not allowed to see you."

"It feels like he's already said that," Marcus said.

"What's  _that_  supposed to mean?"

Marcus sighed. "Nothing, forget it. D'you… d'you at least want to come flying with me for a bit?"

She glanced around; Portia, for some inexplicable reason, was still leaning against the stands a little ways behind her, with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed in Calista's direction - or, perhaps, in Olivia's. It was difficult to tell for certain.

"I… I don't know..."

She looked back at Marcus, and she would have had to be blind to miss the hurt in his eyes. She felt horrible, and reached for his hand.

"I want to, Marcus, you know I do. I just…" she frowned. "Can I… can I see you in the Owlery, later?"

"I have a strategy meeting with the team," he said.

"Okay," she said, "Tomorrow, then?"

"All right," he agreed. "After dinner tomorrow."

Calista tried to pretend that she couldn't see that he was still unhappy. She tried, also, not to think about how quickly it seemed that she was managing to ruin this.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Saturday morning, Calista conceded, and ate breakfast with Marcus. She still felt bad for hurting his feelings the day before, and besides, her father usually ate much earlier than she did on Saturdays, so he wasn't likely to be in the Great Hall. She was relieved to see that she'd predicted correctly, and he was not at the High Table.

The owls flew in, dropping mail onto plates and laps. Calista got another letter from Narcissa, which she slipped into her pocket to read later. She knew it was likely to be yet another page of her aunt urging her to to tell her father about Marcus. But how could she? Maybe Narcissa had been allowed to have a boyfriend, when she was Calista's age, and that was why she thought it would be so easy.

Olivia had a letter, too; Calista didn't notice or care, until she heard sobbing at the far end of the table. When she looked for the source, she saw Olivia, her usually-pretty face blotchy and red and entirely unattractive; tears streamed from her eyes, and she was sobbing into one hand while holding a letter open in her other. She was shaking so hard, Calista wondered how she could even read the letter.

Olivia looked up, and for a fraction of an instant, her eyes locked with Calista's; there was pure venom, suddenly, in Olivia's gaze, and then she stood up, quickly, and ran out of the Great Hall, holding her letter.

Portia got up quickly to follow after her, and, after a brief hesitation, so did Emily. A couple of Olivia's third-year cronies dashed after them, too.

"What's wrong with her?" someone asked. It was Derek, and he looked uncertain as to whether he, too, should get up and follow her.

"She's probably having a bad hair day," Calista said, even though she thought she might know better. Had her Uncle Lucius spoken to Olivia's parents? But then, what could he possibly have said that would reach Olivia in a form that made her cry like  _that_? Calista didn't think she had  _ever_  seen Olivia cry; she was always the one making others do the crying.

Calista finished eating, said goodbye to Marcus, and went to her Occlumency lesson, trying not to feel uneasy about what had just happened.

Later on, when the time had finally come to go to the owlery, Calista was eager to see Marcus for more reason than one. She'd gotten vicious looks from Portia every time they'd made eye contact that day, and she hadn't seen Olivia at all, except as a lump under the covers of her bed when Calista went in to feed her cat.

She didn't quite know what had happened, but it seemed a safe bet that the time remaining where she could keep her mother's identity secret was quickly dwindling. After all, what  _was_ stopping Olivia from telling everyone? Sheer dumb luck, that was all. She couldn't possibly know how  _anyone_  would react to the news, but she knew she had better start telling the people that were most important to her, before Olivia did.

When she arrived at the Owlery, Marcus was already there.

"Hey," she said, cautiously, as she peered around the room to be sure they were alone.

"No one's here," Marcus said, and there was still a trace of mingled hurt and irritation in his voice.

"Okay," she said, drawing close to him. "Good."

She put her hands on his shoulders, and pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. She had gotten taller over the summer, but so had he, and by a lot more.

At first, Marcus was still a little miffed from their interaction the day before on the Quidditch pitch, and the fact that they'd been pretending, in between, not to be as involved with each other as they really were; but after only a few seconds, he wrapped his arms around her, and began returning her kisses.

"Okay," Marcus said, breathlessly, after a few minutes. "I'm not cross anymore."

She laughed, nervously. "I guess… I guess I'm not that bad at this, then."

"Huh?" Marcus said, and he brought one hand to the side of her neck, still keeping one wrapped around her middle. "No… definitely not. I hope  _I'm_  doing it right…"

"Yeah," she said, and she could hear that her own voice sounded a little breathy. "Yeah, I think you are."

"I just wish," Marcus said, "That this didn't have to be a big secret. I mean, I told some people… but, you know… I just really like you, and I don't like pretending I don't, just because other people are around."

"I know…"

"Anyway, it's confusing," he said. "Maybe not for you, but for me. You're so  _good_  at pretending… sometimes when we're at dinner, or in the common room, or something…  _I_  can't even tell if you still like me."

"Of course I still like you," she said. "I don't… I don't think that's going to change anytime soon… I liked you since the first time you took me flying."

"Yeah?" he smiled, a bit sheepishly. "I liked  _you_ way longer than that."

"Well, I mean," she said, " _Liked_  you, liked you, you know?"

"Yeah," he said, "So do I."

She could feel herself blushing, but when she looked at him, he was going a bit red himself.

"How… how long?" she wondered.

"Erm…" he screwed up his face, thinking. His thumb rubbed lightly along her jaw, absently. "I think… I mean, I always thought you were really cool, for a girl," he said, "Especially when you hexed Portia, that time - that was funny."

They both chuckled a little at the memory of that.

"Yeah," Calista said, "She deserved it, but I had the worst detention - sorting eyeballs, can you imagine?"

"Oh yeah," Marcus said, "I've had that one, before. Not my favourite, but not as bad as putting mouse guts in jars -"

"Had that one, too," Calista said ruefully.

Marcus was watching her thoughtfully now; he still had his hand near her jaw, a fact that she was trying hard  _not_  to concentrate on, so that her cheeks might return to a normal colour.

"I think that was it," Marcus said.

"Huh? What was it?"

"That day, when we were in the library… it was after Colin Greengrass was acting all weird, and you and Olivia were fighting. I thought you were fighting over him, maybe you were, I dunno -"

"We weren't."

"Well, anyway, I thought you were, and it made me real cross for some reason, I couldn't figure out why - and then that mouse landed on you, and you were so  _normal_  about it, you didn't freak out or anything. I dunno, it was a regular day, but for some reason I kept thinking about it, the whole thing. It took me awhile to realise why I was so relieved when you said you didn't fancy him. Once I figured out that I didn't want anyone  _else_  to go out with you, I guess I knew I wanted to."

"I didn't fancy  _anyone_  two years ago," she told him.

"Yeah, well, I figured that out, too," he said, "And I just thought, well, I liked hanging around you anyway, so I'd just keep on doing it, and hopefully when you did decide to like someone, it'd be me. And -"

He grinned, and Calista's heart fluttered again.

"It worked," he said, and he went to kiss her again; she'd been about to say something, so he missed, landing his mouth on her chin. They both laughed, nervously, and tried again. This time, they got it right.

"Sorry," Marcus said, "What were you going to say?"

"Well, I can't remember now," she said, and he grinned again.

"So," he said, "I'm curious. What  _were_ you and Olivia fighting over, if it wasn't Colin? It seems like you two were never friends again after that."

"Oh," Calista said, "She tricked me into making Amortentia for her, and then she dosed Colin with it. She… she told me it was for her parents."

He furrowed his brow. "Hang on," he said, "Wasn't that in like, your second year?"

"Yeah."

He shook his head, with a disbelieving smile.

" _Man_ ," he said, "You're just… something else."

"Is that… is that a good thing, or a bad thing? It sounds like it might be a bad thing," she said, suspiciously.

"Duh, it's a good thing," Marcus said, leaning his forehead against hers. "S'why I like you."

Calista allowed herself to savour the moment before she said what she knew she had to; she nearly made herself blush again, by thinking about how much she liked being like this, close to him, just talking and joking - and all right, yes, kissing. And then, she pulled back slightly, looked up into his face.

She wondered if that would be a mistake - looking at him while she told him this. Would she see what he thought in his eyes, again? Would he look at her with anger? Fear? Revulsion? Was there a tiny chance that he would react like Tonks, sympathetically? Well, she was about to find out…

"I have to tell you something," she said, and it seemed to her as if even the sound of her words was heavy. "It's about… it's about my mother…"

He let go of her, but stayed close, responding to the tension in her voice.

"Okay."

He looked unconcerned; well, she knew  _that_  was about to change.

"She's…" she exhaled. "My mother is… is Bellatrix Lestrange."

Marcus furrowed his brow; amazingly, he didn't look disturbed or fearful at all. If anything, maybe he looked a little confused.

"Yeah," Marcus said, finally. "I knew that."

She felt her eyes widen; she thought her jaw might have dropped, for an instant.

" _What?_  You can't -  _how_  did you know?"

He still looked confused. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to know," he said. "I guess… I dunno, I guess I never really thought about it, until you wrote me over the summer, something about your cousin Draco. My dad knows your uncle - Lucius, right? I mean, there aren't  _that_  many kids named Draco, are there?"

"No one knows," Calista said, "I mean, only my family, really."

"Well, I knew you didn't talk about her much," Marcus said, "But once I realised, you know, I just thought, of course, you're probably sad about… about her being in Azkaban. So I never brought it up."

"I'm not sad about her being in Azkaban," she said, before she quite realised she had decided to, "She deserves to be there."

"So…" Marcus said, "She… she really did all that stuff they said, then?"

Calista let out a short, bitter sound that was meant to be a laugh but fell short. "Yeah. Yeah, she did, and a bunch of stuff she never got caught for, too."

He frowned. "That's… she didn't… she didn't ever, you know,  _hurt_  you, did she?"

"Yeah," Calista said, careful to keep her voice completely emotionless, so she wouldn't do something horribly embarrassing, like burst into tears. She'd done that once already, with Narcissa, and that was precisely one too many times. "Yeah, she did."

"Well," Marcus said, stoutly. "If she ever gets out, then… well, she better leave you alone. I don't want to hex a girl, but I will if I have to."

"Marcus," Calista started, hardly believing what she'd heard. "That's…"

"I mean it," he said, "Sorry, I know I'm… I'm probably not supposed to say that about someone's mum, but it makes me mad to think of anyone hurting you."

He paused to consider, while Calista tried to catch up in her own mind to what had just happened.

"Actually," Marcus amended, "I'm  _definitely_  not supposed to say that about someone's mum, but I don't care. I'd do it - or I'd break her arm, if she was trying to curse you." He reflected, and then: "I hope you're not cross with me, now."

"No," Calista said, and she ignored the way that her throat was flexing and tightening, suddenly. "I'm not cross. That's… You're amazing, Marcus, you know that?"

She put her hand behind his neck, reached up, and kissed him firmly.

Marcus chuckled, putting his arms around her again. "I'll hex whoever you want, if you keep doing that," he said, in between kisses.

"Or," he amended, "You're probably better at it than I am, so you hex them and I'll just break arms."

" _Have_  you ever broken anyone's arm before?" she wondered.

"Well, no," he said, and then: "Actually, yeah, my own, I fell off my broom when I was ten. But, you know, I bet I could, if I had to."

"Well," Calista admitted, "I've never hexed anyone either, except Portia that one time."

"But I bet you probably could, if you had to."

Calista snorted. "Are you joking? Of course I could."

He grinned. "I really like you, you know."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista wasn't even thinking about Portia or Olivia at all anymore by the time she went back to her dormitory room, which in retrospect seemed like a huge mistake.

She paused, a few steps inside her room; the lights were on, and Olivia was sitting up in bed, with Portia and Emily on either side of her, comforting her. Her hair was a mess, there was some sort of dark streaky stuff on her face; it took Calista a few seconds to realise that it was makeup - she thought at first that it might be some kind of bruise.

"Er…" Calista said, backing up a step. "I'll just… go."

Portia nodded emphatically, but Olivia narrowed her eyes, and hissed a command: " _No. You stay._ "

"Ehm," Calista said again, "No thanks…"

Portia was up then, quicker than Calista had ever seen her move; she ran towards where Calista was, and Calista winced in expectation of some sort of blow, thrusting her hand into her pocket and curling her fingers around her wand.

She needn't have bothered, though; Portia simply pressed herself against the door, blocking Calista's exit.

"Okay," Calista said, trying to sound calm, even though she wasn't sure if she felt it any longer. "If you're planning some kind of… some kind of ambush, don't. I'm a better duelist than any of you are, I'll…"

She trailed off, remembering that she wasn't allowed to tell anyone at school any of the new curses she was learning.

"You'll what?" Olivia hissed, again, "Run and cry to your wealthy uncle?"

 _Oh._ Apparently, Lucius  _had_  spoken to Olivia's parents.

"I thought so," Olivia said, snidely, as she wiped the streaked makeup and tears with newfound determination. "I just want to know, Calista… how did you find out my mother wanted me to be friends with you? Did you read my letters?"

"Yeah," Calista said, "I did. And don't pretend like you wouldn't have done the same thing, you know you would."

"You're right," Olivia said, matter-of-factly. "I would. I've tried, loads of times, but you don't seem to keep any of your letters here in our room… or you didn't used to. Real interesting stuff in your Arithmancy book this year, though."

Calista felt the colour drain from her face. Her letters from Marcus were in her Arithmancy book…

"We've had a grand time, the three of us, reading all your pathetic little letters. You really should find a better hiding spot," Olivia said, "Although, I guess it doesn't do much good anyway, when you have backstabbing roommates who go through all your things, does it?"

"No," Calista said stonily, "I guess not." She fought to keep her expression neutral, not to let Olivia see how much she was bothered by her having read her letters… if Olivia realised that her father still didn't know about her and Marcus…

"Why did you do it?" Olivia asked her, harshly. "Why did you have to bring your whole family into it?"

"That's what you  _wanted_ , isn't it?" Calista sneered. "My family?"

"No," Olivia said, her voice approaching a hiss. "That's what my  _mother_  wanted. I hate you. I've hated you for a long time."

"Well, good," Calista said, "For once we agree on something."

"We've had our differences," Olivia said, "But I've  _never_  gone and dragged adults into them."

Calista laughed loudly, obnoxiously. "Ha! Right, okay, I must have imagined you telling McGonagall I cheated in Transfiguration, then."

Olivia flushed. Evidently, she hadn't expected Calista to recall that, and bring it up.

"Well, I never dragged my  _family_  into it," Olivia amended.

"No, you settled for dragging mine into it," Calista said.

" _You_  did that, Calista! You could have  _asked_  me about that letter, or better yet, kept your nasty little hands to yourself and stayed out of my things!"

"Maybe I was tired of you constantly holding things over me," Calista said, "Maybe I thought I had to have  _something_ to counter it, for once."

" _Holding things over you_?" Olivia shrieked, her voice rising quickly. "How could I ever hold  _anything_ over you? You have everything, Calista! The darling of half the professors at this school, including your father, who won't let  _anyone_ give his precious daughter a hard time, friends from every bloody House at Hogwarts, wealthy pureblood relatives who buy you fancy new robes and jewelry - yes, I saw it all when I was going through your things, all right? - and  _now_  you have a popular boyfriend who just  _adores_ spending time with you, it's all so  _sickening_  -"

Calista's eyes had gotten rounder and rounder while Olivia went on her rant; it was actually  _true_? All this time, Olivia had somehow been  _jealous_  of her, just like Narcissa had said?

"Come on," Calista said, her voice trembling a little. She had no idea how to even  _begin_ to respond to what Olivia had said. "Like you haven't been holding the truth about my mother over me, reminding me that you know who she is, that you could just… just tell everyone, whenever you felt like it."

" _Tell_  everyone?" Olivia yelled, and in that moment, she looked like some kind of wild creature, " _Tell everyone?!_ Why in the  _hell_  would I ever do that?"

"To… to try and make my friends hate me, of course," Calista said, rolling her eyes. "Don't tell me that wasn't the plan - but I've already told them, and they don't care."

Well, it wasn't entirely true, but she'd realised a second too late that if that  _hadn't_ been Olivia's plan, it was going to be now.

Olivia laughed harshly; it came out more like a bark or a howl than anything else, inhuman.

"You little  _idiot_!" she said, derisively. "I would never tell anyone you're related to the Blacks and the Malfoys, that would only make all the Slytherins like you  _more_ , and they're the only ones I care about! I don't give a damn about what your little Mudblood friends think, they don't even  _matter_!"

"Stop calling them that!"

"And the  _worst_  part," Olivia added, in a snarl, oblivious to Calista's words, "Is I don't even know how you get it all! I ask myself all the time -  _how_  does anyone  _like_  you? You're… you're not even  _pretty!_ "

"Yeah, you're not," Portia piped up from behind her. Arguably, Portia wasn't either, but that didn't seem to stop her from voicing her opinion.

Emily just sat, very still, next to Olivia. Her face looked drawn, eyes wide and hollow, like she wasn't certain how she had found herself in the present situation.

"No, I guess I'm not," Calista agreed. "You've always made sure I knew that."

"You're  _not supposed to have any of the things you do_ ," Olivia said, insistently, as if her saying so would make everything she'd listed disappear from Calista's life. "Not a nasty, ugly, big-nosed freak like you."

But Calista found that she didn't have it in her, in that moment, to be angry at Olivia anymore. Instead, she felt a queer, thick heaviness in the pit of her stomach, one that made her feel sick.

Was  _pretty_  really everything to Olivia? Calista had always wished she looked more like Olivia, but not if  _this_  was what it cost. It struck her that this philosophy, the one Olivia evidently clung to, was the most pathetic way to go through life that she could imagine.

"You know who  _was_  really pretty, Olivia?" Calista said, her voice quiet, but strong in the sudden silence of the room. "My mother was. And she's in Azkaban. Maybe you should reconsider what's important."


	4. Chapter 4

"You're stressing the wrong syllable," Percy Weasley said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's  _Err-_ ecemo Acus, not Er- _ee_ cemo."

Calista scowled, and mimicked his voice, casting the incantation at the caged hedgehog on the table between them.

They were in the Transfiguration classroom, because Professor McGonagall had only a limited supply of hedgehogs, and for some reason, she seemed to think that Calista might loose her hedgehog in the library if she were allowed to take it out of the classroom. Calista had a good idea where she had gotten that idea from, and she was glaring over the top of the hedgehog cage at him, now.

"Oh, look, nothing happened when I did it your way, either," she pointed out.

"Because you're not staying calm, look, of course you're magic's going to behave erratically if you're behaving that way, right?"

"I'm not behaving  _erratically_ ," she said, "I'm  _annoyed_. They're two completely different things."

"I'm telling you, all of this would be so much easier if you could just calm down -"

"That's what people keep telling me," she remarked. "But you know, every time I finally get a spell to work, I'm right cross with whatever it is I'm trying to transfigure. I… I call things names in my head, and it seems to help."

Percy frowned quizzically. "What sort of names?"

"Like… hm. All right, you pathetic excuse for a mammal, get all soft and pillowy!"

She waved her wand and said the incantation experimentally. Nothing happened.

"I see," Percy said, stuffily. "Perhaps we can just go back to studying the proper way, then?"

"You're such a bore sometimes." Calista said, rolling her eyes.

"What happened to that bit where you weren't going to be mean anymore?"

She shifted her glare to the hedgehog, who sat there look quite pleased with all of his … hedgehogness.

" _That_  happened," she said. She was tempted to stick her tongue out at it.

Percy sighed. "Can we just get through this, please?"

She lifted her wand again, resigned to another dull hour that was likely to be utterly fruitless.

Tutoring sessions with Percy often went more or less the same; she would try and try, with increasing frustration, for several sessions in a row, and then, finally, seemingly out of nowhere, the spell would work. Her excitement, though, was nearly always short-lived, because it often took her several more sessions before she could get the spell to work  _consistently_. It was very frustrating for her, because she was used to catching on quickly - but at least now, she knew she was capable of catching on at all.

Homework in general was much more intense in fourth year, supposedly in preparation for the next year's O.W.L. examinations. She and Amelia often had to get passes from their Heads of House to be in the library late into the evenings, working on Arithmancy, and Calista found that, once the school year had really picked up, she had difficulty finding enough time to write any extra essays for Charms, so her ideas stirred, stilted, in the back of her mind.

She had yet to nail down a specific time to meet her father for any extra Potions lessons, but then, if she was being honest, she was delaying and hedging, because even though she did miss spending that time with him, she knew that the more time she spent with him, the more likely he was to guess what was going on between her and Marcus.

Considering all of this, she should have been eagerly anticipating the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, but in reality she was dreading it. For one thing, she wanted to go somewhere with Marcus, but sometimes her father went to Hogsmeade, and even if he didn't, what if someone saw them hanging around together and mentioned to to him? Perhaps he would be unconcerned, if they were merely  _seen_  together, but Calista had a feeling that any time she spent alone with Marcus was going to culminate in them kissing, and she definitely didn't want  _that_  being reported back to her father. Nevermind that he would be angry, it would also be humiliating.

The other reason Calista was dreading the first Hogsmeade weekend was even more complicated. She had determined that she  _had_  to tell her closest friends, Amelia, Penny, and Percy, about her mother before Olivia changed her mind, and she had kept putting it off by telling herself she'd wait until they were all together in Hogsmeade.

The problem with that was that the day they would all be together in Hogsmeade was approaching quickly, and when it arrived, she still wasn't prepared.

Marcus  _did_  want to go somewhere with her, to the Three Broomsticks or to look around in the shops - she suspected they wanted to go to different shops, though - but she was worried that it might seem suspicious if they went into Hogsmeade together, so she told him they should go separately, and meet up in the Three Broomsticks later on. He hadn't seemed very pleased with her plan, but he'd agreed to it, and he went into the village with his friends from the Quidditch team, while she met up with Amelia, Penny, and Percy in the Entrance Hall.

All too soon, she was sitting at a snug little table with them. At least it  _was_  a small table, so she wouldn't have to shout to them. Percy and Penny were bickering good-naturedly about a recent chess match, while Amelia and Calista went up to get them all butterbeers.

"So, I have to tell you guys something…" Calista said quietly to Amelia, while they were waiting.

"Yeah?" Amelia asked, with a sly grin. "Is it about you and Marcus?"

"No, definitely not. It's… it's something bad. Something that might… it might make you not like me anymore."

Amelia snorted. "Unless it's that you've decided to stop hanging out with us and go back to that snot Olivia, I don't think that's possible."

"Yeah, we'll see…"

Madam Rosmerta collected their money, and set four bottles down on the bar; Calista and Amelia grabbed them, and carried them back to their table, sliding back into their seats after distributing them.

"But it makes far more sense, in that particular case, to sacrifice your bishop, rather than your rook," Percy was saying, and Penny was shaking her head impatiently.

"In the short term, perhaps, but not when you've got -"

" _Guys_." Amelia said, "Shut it. Calista has something to tell us."

Calista scowled. "I didn't mean right  _now_ ," she muttered, but now they were all looking at her expectantly. She sighed, and looked over her friends' heads, to see if Marcus had come in yet. maybe if she showed up right now, she could put off telling them a little longer… but he didn't.

"It's… it's something I really didn't want anyone to know," Calista started. "I mean… I guess I have to tell you now, because Olivia knows and she might… I mean, she says she won't, but I don't trust that cow-"

"Erm," Percy said, "Sorry, but what are you talking about?"

Calista sighed, and braced herself. She took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.

"It's… my mother. The reason I… the reason I never talk about her is because… because I hate her. I mean, I never see her, and I don't want to, so I don't want you to think… but she's…"

She swallowed. This was more difficult than either of the other two times she'd told someone. She wasn't sure if it was because she was telling three of them at once, or if it was some sort of sign that they weren't going to take it as well as either Tonks or Marcus had.

They were all looking at her, expectantly; a small frown creased Percy's face.

"She's Bellatrix Lestrange," she managed, finally, and she was sorely tempted to slink under the table then, so she wouldn't have to see their reactions.

Their reactions, as it happened, were mixed. Penny's eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open slightly. Percy looked horrified, and that was the most difficult one. Amelia… well, Amelia stared back at her blankly.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said, wrinkling her nose. " _Who?_ "

"I'm not saying it again," Calista said, miserably.

"No, I heard you, I just… I don't know who that is. Am I supposed to?"

"But," Percy said, earnestly. "Calista, that means… your  _dad_ … is he… is he…?"

"He has nothing to do with her anymore," Calista said, "They weren't even together when I was born. And he's  _nothing_  like her, trust me."

"I hope not," Percy said, "Imagine having someone like that teaching at Hogwarts. I suppose Dumbledore would never allow it, though, if they  _were_ … you know,  _affiliates_."

"Percy," Penny admonished. "Don't you think that's a bit insensitive? Look, she's obviously worried how we'll react, and you're asking her if her Dad was a follower of -"

" _Please_ ," Calista implored, " _Don't_  say it."

"I wasn't going to say his name," Penny said.

"Just don't say it at all," Calista said, quietly. "It's not true, anyway. He's not."

"Okay," Amelia said impatiently, "Is someone going to tell me what's going on here? Who's Bellat-"

"Shh!" Calista said, because Amelia was speaking louder than Calista was comfortable with.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Penny said quietly, "Is one of You-Know-Who's most infamous followers. She's… she's in Azkaban, for a whole list of crimes related to that."

"My dad told me she's one of the most vicious ones," Percy added, apprehensively. "They caught her torturing some Aurors, and she just sat there at her trial, gloating about how You-Know-Who was going to reward her when…" he swallowed. "When he came back."

"Did you…" Penny asked Calista, cautiously, while Amelia processed this new information, "Did you ever see her… uhm, hurting someone?"

Calista gritted her teeth. "Yes," she said, shortly. "And don't ask me any more about it, I don't want to talk about it."

"Well," Percy said uncomfortably, "Naturally, we're curious, Calista… it's a bit of a shock, you know?"

Calista wanted to disappear, but then Amelia surprised her, by shoving Percy's shoulder roughly, and rolling her eyes.

"Come on, Perce!" she said, "The reason it's a shock is because obviously Calista's nothing like her mother - we know that, and that's all we need to know. Forget about this Bella-whatsit person, Calista's still just the same as she was before she told us."

"I suppose…" Percy began.

"Good," Amelia finished. "Then I suppose it's time we talk about something else."

They moved on, although their conversation was stilted and uncomfortable for a few minutes, before Percy and Penny got back into their chess debate, and then everything felt almost normal again.

Calista felt a huge swell of positive emotion for Amelia, and she caught her eye. "Thank you," she mouthed silently. She hoped Amelia could tell how grateful she really was.

Amelia smiled, and lifted her butterbeer. "Cheers," she said.

A few minutes later, Marcus did come into the pub; he was much taller than many of the other students, so he stood out immediately. Calista saw him looking around a bit, and then he saw them. He came over to their table, and stood right beside Calista's chair. He leaned close to her, and she was afraid he was going to kiss her here, in front of the whole pub; she shook her head quickly, and inched backward from him.

Marcus scowled. "So…  _do_ you want to hang out with me?" he asked, "Or should I just go?"

"Marcus, of course I want to…"

"Doesn't look that way."

"I'm  _sorry_ ," she told him quietly, for what felt like the umpteenth time, "I just don't want my dad to -"

"Yeah, I know," he said, "I keep wondering, though, if you would be less nervous about telling him if it was someone else instead of me…"

"That's ridiculous," Calista said, "It has nothing to do with that, trust me. He won't let me go out with  _anyone_."

"I dunno," he said, and for some reason, he aimed a glare at Percy. "I feel like it might be personal."

Percy, unfortunately, noticed the look Marcus had given him, and he returned it with an icy one of his own.

"Can I help you, Flint?" Percy asked, pointedly.

Marcus hulked next to Calista, looking surly. Amelia rolled her eyes.

"You guys better go," she observed, looking at Calista, "Before Percy and your boyfriend start hexing each other."

Calista nodded, and slid off her chair; they were walking away just when Percy said, dumbfounded: "Huh? Her  _boyfriend_? You aren't serious, are you?"

Well. It seemed he hadn't known, then. For some reason, this really seemed to irritate Marcus. He was walking fast, when they stepped out onto the High Street.

"Hey, slow down," Calista called after him, "Your legs are a lot longer than mine are."

"Oh, I thought maybe you wanted it to look like we just  _happened_  to be walking in the same direction," Marcus said, but he did slow down to let her catch up.

"Come on, that's not fair…"

"All of  _my_  friends know about us," Marcus said. "I know you keep saying this thing about not wanting your dad to find out -"

"Shh!"

"-But it kind of seems like you don't want  _anyone_  to find out."

"Marcus, it's not that, come on."

"Maybe I should sign up for Arithmancy," he said, and Calista was surprised to hear a strong sort of emotion clouding his voice; was he  _sad_? Or… well, it was something besides simply being annoyed. "Maybe then you wouldn't be embarrassed to tell people you're with me."

" _Marcus_ ," she said, and she reached for his hand, to stop him from walking. They were near the mouth of an alley; she was tempted to pull him a ways along it, but it didn't quite seem like the wisest of ideas, just now. "I'm not embarrassed to be with you, I promise I'm not. That doesn't even make any  _sense_ , you're the popular one, you should be embarrassed to be with  _me_."

"I'm the popular one?" Marcus wondered. "What's that supposed to mean? You have loads of friends, and they're all so bloody  _clever_ , I can't stand it."

"But you have the Quidditch team," she pointed out, "And everyone in Slytherin likes you, you have plenty of friends."

"That's not the point," Marcus said, exasperated. "I don't care… I just… it's hard not to think that you're ashamed of being with me, when you don't even tell all your clever Arithmancy friends about us."

"I  _told_  you," she wailed. "It's because of my dad."

"The thing is," he said, quietly, and he reached for her other hand, so he was holding both of them. "When I first told you I liked you, I said I could handle your dad being cross if you could, and you said yeah. What happened to that?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I just… I didn't expect everything would feel so… I dunno, it's like it's real now, and at first it felt like it was just a dream or something. Making my dad cross didn't seem like such a big deal when it was just a dream, you know?"

"Okay." Marcus exhaled. "I wasn't gonna tell you this, 'cause I knew you'd freak out, but… your dad asked me the the other day about us."

Calista felt the colour drain from her face. " _What?!_ "

"Yeah," Marcus said, "He used to make these comments to me all the time, whenever he was correcting me in class, nothing specific but like, I swore he knew something was up. But then I've gotten much better in Potions lately - partly studying with you, and partly just concentrating really hard on the directions, so your dad didn't have an excuse to hang around my cauldron…"

"What did he  _say_?" Calista pressed.

"I'm getting to that," Marcus said. "So I got my potion right, but he still came up to me and asked to see me after class. So I went up to him, y'know, after everyone else left… and he just goes, 'Is there anything I should be aware of regarding yourself and my daughter, Mr. Flint?' all scary-like."

"Oh no," Calista moaned. "You didn't… you didn't tell him, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Marcus said, grimly. "I was going to, but then… you know, I know you're worried about it, and I didn't want to get you in trouble with him, so I just pretended I had no idea what he was talking about… but he made this face, Calista, I don't think he believed me."

"Okay," Calista said, trying to calm herself. "Next time, you have to… you have to make sure that you're not thinking about me around him, he just  _knows_  things sometimes…"

"I dunno," Marcus said, doubtfully. "I'm not very good at secrets, remember?"

"Well,  _I_  am."

"Obviously," he muttered, darkly.

She glared at him, but she immediately regretted it, because he didn't get angry in response the way she expected him too; instead, he just looked sad.

"Come on, Calista," he said, "I don't want this. I don't want to be cross with each other, okay? And I don't want to have to act like I'm doing something  _wrong_  by being with you. I like you, and you like me, so what's the problem? Why does your dad hate me so much?"

"He doesn't hate you… he won't, until he knows about us. Which is exactly what I'm trying to  _prevent_ , don't you get that? I don't want him to tell me that I  _can't_  be with you, because… because then, well, I  _can't_."

"I dunno," Marcus said glumly, "It sure seems like he hates me."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista walked back to the castle with Marcus, because it seemed like the only way to placate him. As soon as they reached the Entrance Hall, though, she insisted that they separate, even though they were going to the same place.

Portia was giving her a funny look all the way back to the common room, which she tried her best to ignore; wouldn't her and Olivia ever get tired of hating her? She knew she got tired of hating  _them_ , especially after she had realised how twisted Olivia's worldview evidently was.

In a strange sort of way, Calista thought she almost pitied Olivia - or would have, if Olivia wasn't such a difficult person to sympathise with. Where had Olivia gotten the idea that her only currency was in being pretty? She was a bright enough student, perhaps even exceptional in Transfiguration; Calista didn't  _like_  Olivia, but she could recognise that about her. She could be amusing, too, when she wasn't being petty and vindictive. How had she come to the conclusion that the only thing that mattered was what was on the outside?

It had never even  _occurred_  to Calista to think about what she looked like until she met those horrible girls in the orphanage, years ago, and even then, it hadn't seemed to matter. It was Olivia who had finally managed to make her feel badly about the way she looked, but  _still_ , Calista couldn't imagine placing the same importance on it that Olivia did. She might try to do a bit more with her hair now, but the fact of the matter remained that Calista was always going to place priority on a new extra credit essay for Flitwick, or learning a new potion, over something as trivial as what she  _looked_  like.

Musing over these things, she arrived in the common room at nearly the same time as Marcus, anyway. She spent the rest of the evening carefully avoiding him, which she suspected was just as difficult for  _her_  as it was for him. Of course she wanted to spend time with him without worrying about what other people thought, but what they had seemed preferable to not spending any time with him at all.

She was preoccupied for much of Sunday and Monday, both with fear that her father had actually asked Marcus if there was anything going on between them, and with a mild twist in her gut that would occur, occasionally, whenever she thought about Olivia.

She couldn't help but picture Olivia reading her letters from Marcus, getting amusement from them. She wasn't sure which she felt more strongly, anger or humiliation, but either way, it sent an uncomfortable heat racing through her skin to think of it. And then, of course, there  _was_  still the fact that Olivia knew who Calista's mother was, and even though Calista had finally told the people she cared about the most, she still didn't want  _everyone_  to know, even if Olivia did think it would make the Slytherins like her more, for some reason.

She was actually glad for the distraction of another tutoring session with Percy on Monday afternoon, even though she made precisely zero progress on turning her hedgehog into a pincushion. She was even gladder for the time she was meant to spend in the Charms classroom, in case anyone needed help.

A first-year Hufflepuff girl, the same one who had had trouble with her Levitation Charm, came back. This time she needed help with magical Locking and Unlocking, and while Calista was helping her, it was difficult not to think of the last essay she had written for Flitwick, about the charms. All the while she was helping the younger girl practise on the classroom door, her mind was racing, considering the ways in which she might try to adapt the  _Secret_  rune into some sort of ritual.

When the Hufflepuff girl left, Calista took a sheet of parchment from her schoolbag and started to jot down more notes, more ideas she had in relation to it. When her two hours was up, she had nearly filled one side of the parchment.

She was supposed to check in with Professor Flitwick to let him know who she'd tutored, if anyone, and probably, although he never said that was the reason, so he could make sure that all of the peer tutors actually showed up when they were supposed to. She knocked on his office door, even though it was ajar.

"Come in, come in," he called from within, and Calista pushed the door open a little further and stepped into his office.

"Ah, good afternoon, Miss Snape," he said, cheerfully. It looked like he was correcting essays at his desk; he wondered if he was correcting essays from her class.

"Hello, Professor Flitwick," she said. She still had her scrawled-over sheet of parchment in her hand. "I only had one person again, Eliza Miffkin. We worked on Locking and Unlocking Charms, I think she's got it now."

"Ah, yes," Professor Flitwick said. "She mentioned before that you were quite helpful. I'm pleased that you were able to assist." He smiled. "Is that another essay you're working on, there?"

"Yeah," she said, 'Well… I mean, it's kind of the same one still, I guess. With the rune, you know, for 'Secret'. I've been trying to find other ones, where the rune looks like the wand movement, but it's sort of hard to find, just because there're so many runes to look through, from all different languages and time periods, and all that."

Flitwick nodded. "Ah, yes, that does seem daunting."

"Maybe I'll just see another one by chance, like I did with this one," she said, hopefully. "That could give me another direction to go in."

"A lot of innovative developments in magic happened by chance, you know," Flitwick mused enthusiastically. "Although… hm. Do you recall, my dear, your essay on the Silencing Charm?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that was how I first started thinking about wandless magic, and rituals, and things."

"What if you approached this rune project in that same fashion?" he suggested. "Begin with the  _ritual_ , and then you can cross-reference related words for their runes. It will still be a good deal of research, but I imagine it will go a bit faster that way."

"Erm… yeah, wow, that makes a lot more sense," she said, and she felt a bit silly now that he had said it. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"Well, even the best of us do get a little bit blinded by the excitement of our own pet projects, hm? I know I have fallen victim to the same thing many times myself… the important thing, of course, is that we keep trying to learn, yes?"

She nodded. "I'm going to start researching it that way - maybe right now, actually, I bet there's something in the library…"

"Ah, but perhaps I can save you that trip," Flitwick squeaked, and he stood up on his chair, perusing the bookshelf next to his desk. "Let's see, let's see… Ah, yes, here it is."

He pulled a thick volume off his shelf, and held it out to her, beaming. "Slinkhard's better known for his works on Magical Theory, but he wrote this fascinating history book, too, on the evolution of the wand. The beginning sections talk about pre-wand magic, and I'm certain there were fairly thorough descriptions of some ancient charms rituals in there. Take a look at it, and see if you find anything you can use."

She took the book, and examined the cover.  _Wandlore Through The Ages_ , by Wilbert Slinkhard. She flipped the cover over, and scanned the contents. It did look as if there was a good deal of material inside about pre-wand spells; she felt the familiar buzzing of excitement in her mind when she knew she had something new or interesting to study.

"Thanks, Professor," she said, "I'll be careful with it - this looks really good."

Professor Flitwick smiled fondly at her. "I know you will. I'm looking forward to that essay."

She grinned, slipping the book carefully into her bag. "Me, too. I know it's probably mental, but… I really like writing them."

"Ah, it's not mental at all, my dear," the tiny professor said, good-naturedly. "It just goes to show that you would make an excellent Ravenclaw, just as I've always suspected."

She beamed, knowing it was a compliment from the man who adored the students in his own House. "Thanks," she said, again.

It was only after she had left his office, that Olivia's words came back to her.

 _The darling of half the professors in this school_ , Olivia had accused her of being.

Well, she didn't think that was quite true; and if it was, so what? There was nothing at all wrong with being thought of as a good student. Perhaps that  _did_  make her something of a Ravenclaw. Nor for the first time, Calista wondered if she would have been happier, there. She would have had Amelia and Penny for roommates, instead of Portia and Olivia.

But then, most of the time, she liked having her father for her Head of House, and she liked a good deal of the people in Slytherin, too. She wondered, though. She didn't feel much like the same girl that had been Sorted.  _Would_  the hat choose differently now, if she were to try it on again?

When she arrived back in her common room, she checked the time. It was only four-thirty; she still had an hour until dinner, more than enough time to start reading the book Flitwick had lent her. She chose a study table in the common room, and flipped to the first chapter.

She was several pages in, when she sensed someone approaching her; she looked up, and  _still,_ her heart sped up a little when she realised it was Marcus.

"Hey," he said, "I was thinking… maybe we could meet up in the Owlery again later?"

"Yeah," she said, unable to resist smiling at him. "Yeah, let's do that."

"Seven's good again?"

She nodded. Then she saw Portia, standing behind Marcus, and obviously eavesdropping. She narrowed her eyes into a glare.

"Get lost, Macnair," she said, firmly.

Portia returned her glare, and then made a beeline for Olivia, who was holding court on one of the big black sofas with her third-year fanclub. Calista tried hard not to imagine what Portia might be whispering in Olivia's ear.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Severus sat in his office, marking papers. It was well past his regular office hours, but he preferred to use his office for all of his professorial duties, so that when he did retire to his quarters, it felt like he was off the clock.

Occasionally, a student would come to him, when he was in his office after hours. More often than not, that student would be his daughter, and her visits in particular, he didn't mind; especially not when they were voluntary, a surprise, and not because she was in some sort of trouble. Unfortunately, visits from her that met all three of those criteria had dwindled again, of late, to nearly nothing.

For a while, between Christmas break and April of last school year, she had spent a lot of voluntary time with him; but then, when the weather turned, she had come less and less frequently in between her required lessons, and this term, she had hardly been to see him at all, except for when he mandated it. When she did come, she was often moody and evasive, and generally not particularly pleasant to be around.

The frustrating part to Severus was that she seemed to genuinely think that he was fooled by her continued insistence that there was nothing she was hiding from him. He  _knew_  there was, had known it since last April, when she'd gone quiet when he made an offhand joke about her not dating until she was thirty. She was good enough at guarding her thoughts these days that he had not known for certain  _who_  she had eyes for, but he knew there was someone.

It was tempting to push a bit further in Occlumency lessons, to turn her thoughts over and examine them instead of merely testing the strength of her barriers, but it was something he had promised her he would not do. Still, the longer she evaded his questions, the more urgently he had wanted to break that promise.

There was the Flint boy; certainly, he had been holding a torch for Calista for some time. But Severus wasn't particularly concerned about that, despite what that Avril girl had come to tell him, a week ago. Flint could fancy Calista all he wanted, but he was nearly certain Calista would go for a different sort; of course, he'd asked the Flint boy, just to be safe, after the Avril girl had come spouting her story, but he'd only confirmed that Flint did indeed pine after his daughter, and he couldn't very well punish the boy for  _wishing_.

No, there was someone  _else_ , he was sure of it; some intellectual type, probably a Ravenclaw. In Flint's eyes, he'd seen a vision of the boy kissing his daughter in the Owlery, but he presumed it at once to be nothing but a fantasy - albeit one that irked him, but a fantasy nonetheless - because he could not imagine Calista keeping such a secret from him, after so many pointed questions, and also because he didn't think she was the sort of girl to be kissing boys in the Owlery. That sort of thing was more suited to girls like the Avril one, wasn't it?

He could only hope that whatever boy Calista was involved with, he was close to her own age; she did have a penchant for socialising with older students. He wondered if he should drop in on one of Filius' peer tutor meetings - there was at least one Ravenclaw boy tutoring Charms, he knew, and now that he thought of it, Calista's newfound attitude and her desire to tutor other students in Charms  _had_ come about fairly close in time.

But less than a year ago, Calista had still been solidly in the 'boys are icky' camp, and though he was quite irritated at her lack of communication and honesty, he at least took solace in the fact that, at the rate she had matured in regards to boys, she was not likely to want to go any further with one than studying with their heads bent low together, or perhaps hand-holding and an awkward conversation over a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks… but he'd asked Madam Rosmerta, in a weak moment, and as far as she could recall, Calista was still going in there with the same crowd as always, Weasley, Clearwater, and Amelia Slater, the girl that had spent half of the previous summer in his flat.

The problem was, until Severus knew who the boy in question was, he had no idea whether  _he_  was in the same stage of maturity regarding romance as Calista was, and that worried him. He needed Calista to come clean with him, before things picked up intensity, and she found herself accidentally in over her head. Certainly, he had once  _hoped_  that would wait until she was thirty, but he hadn't honestly expected it. He decided to give her one more week, to come out with the truth, and tell him which boy it was she was getting involved with. After that, he would  _demand_  that she come clean, disclose the lengths he had already gone to to try and find out…

He was jarred from his musings by a rap at his office door. Ah, perhaps it was Calista herself,  _finally_  come to tell him the truth. Why she  _insisted_ , always, on keeping him in the dark as long as possible, well, he had told Narcissa the truth, he didn't quite know; and he was trying to accept it, but there were times where it was next to impossible.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened, and it wasn't Calista after all. It was the Avril girl again, and this time she had brought her sidekick, Macnair. Severus fought to keep his lip from curling; he knew he was biased, but he didn't particularly care for either of them.

"Yes, Miss Avril, Miss Macnair?" he asked, with polite impatience.

"Professor Snape, sir," Avril said, affecting a look of wide-eyed innocence. "There's something Portia and I have to tell you - something about Calista."

He waited for them to continue. They exchanged a look, and then the Macnair girl spoke up.

"Calista's snogging Marcus Flint," she said, and she didn't even manage to  _sound_  halfway sincere, like the Avril girl could.

"I'm really concerned, sir," Avril said, with more of that mock-sincerity. "Marcus is a little  _older_ , you know, and he's said a few things about… about Calista that seemed so… well, crude, sir, if you will. And she's  _so_  naive," the girl continued, "I'm afraid he might try to take advantage of her."

"I believe you've expressed your concern to me before, Miss Avril. I assure you, I recall it."

Dismissal was evident in his tone; still, the Avril girl pressed on.

"But, sir, this time I'm certain of it. They're in the Owlery right now; Portia saw them going up."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista beat Marcus to the Owlery this time; as soon as he appeared, though, she knew her face lit up.

"Hey," he said, striding over to her, and grinning. Would that grin ever stop making her feel dizzy?

They hadn't been alone together in several days, so they spent the next several minutes kissing; by the time they separated, both of them were a bit red-faced.

"So," Marcus teased, with his hand still aside of her neck, "Have you done anything brilliant since Saturday? Invented any new spells, or… or whipped up any more sixth year potions?"

"Well… I did borrow a new book from Flitwick, about ancient charms… they used to use these complicated rituals, you know, like I was telling you about before, before they had wands. I'm going to see if I can find any runes that were used for them that might match up to wand movements for modern spells."

"See, if someone said all that in class, I'd be bored out of my mind, but when  _you_  say it, it sounds so interesting."

She chuckled. "Well… it probably is boring, for most people. It's just… I have my own reasons for being interested in wandless magic…"

 _Namely, Bellatrix's Disarming skill…_  But she didn't want to think about Bellatrix now.

"What about you?" she asked, "You were making up those strategy diagrams, for Quidditch. Have you come up with anything good?"

"Well," he said, "I've been thinking of having Ivans and Groudy - er, you know, the new Beaters - try the Doppelbeater Defence… you know what that is?"

"No," she admitted, "But tell me."

"It's when both Beaters hit the same bludger together… it can really take the other team's Chaser out, y'know? Kim Avery and Justin Kline were real good at it, but they've both graduated. I'm not sure if the new guys can do it, to be honest."

"So I've noticed something," Calista said, because it had just occurred to her. "You've stopped trying to get me to try out for Quidditch. Did you finally realise I can't fly?"

"You can fly," Marcus insisted, "Or you could, if you really wanted to, I still believe that. But…" he shifted, a little uncomfortably. "I kept thinking, you know, if you were on the team, we'd spend more time together…"

"But you've been bugging me to play Quidditch since my first year."

"Yeah, about that," Marcus said, chuckling sheepishly. " _I_  was thinking about that the other day, you know, 'cause you asked me when I realised I fancied you, and I guess I should have figured it out much sooner, 'cause when I was younger, my dad always told me if you like a girl, you should try and find a common interest… and I guess I was trying to find one with you, only I'm not clever enough for all the things you're into, so I was just trying to get you into Quidditch, instead."

Calista laughed a bit, too. "Well,  _I'm_ not athletic enough for the things  _you're_ into."

"So…" Marcus said, pulling her close, and disarming her with that grin again, "I guess it's a good thing we found something we're both into…"

"Oh yeah?" she asked, playing along; but she had her hands behind his neck already, was already standing on her tiptoes. "What's that?"

He found her mouth with his; his kisses were always so gentle, sweet - they made her feel comfortable with it, will all of this, when otherwise she might not have been.

"This," he murmured, and he kissed her again. Calista had always thought it was stupid, in books and things, when people kissed with their eyes closed, but now she was doing it, too -

-And suddenly, she wasn't. Abruptly, their kiss ended, and she felt nothing but cold air where Marcus had been. Her eyes flew open…

And then, her jaw dropped in horror. Of all people, her  _father_  was here, suddenly, inexplicably, and he had Marcus by the front of his robes; Marcus looked pretty startled, and she remembered that he'd admitted, last year, to being scared of Severus.

Perhaps it should have seemed absurd, because Marcus was a bit taller than Severus, and a good deal broader, but the twisted look of fury on Severus' face made  _him_  seem like the larger of the two.

"' _There's nothing going on with Calista, sir'"_ , Severus mocked, " _'I have no idea what you mean'._ "

"I… erm, P-professor, I -" Marcus stammered; Calista tried to get her father's attention, because frankly, she could see in that moment how Marcus was afraid of him - but he didn't seem to notice. He bared his teeth at Marcus.

"In the future, Mr. Flint," Severus hissed, "You'd do well to remember that I  _detest_  liars."

"I'm s-sorry, sir, I -"

"Also in the future," Severus growled, fist still clenched around the fabric at the neck of Marcus' robes, "You will keep your  _mouth_ off of my daughter, or you will find yourself packing your trunk for good. Is that understood?"

"Please, sir, let me-"

"I asked," Severus said, his voice rising quickly," _Is that understood, Mr. Flint?_ "

Calista couldn't see her father's eyes clearly, but she would have bet anything that they were flashing now, in that dangerous way that meant he'd been pushed too far...

"Yeah, okay," Marcus said, quickly, and Severus finally released his hold on the boy's robes.

"Good," Severus said ominously, and then his gaze swung around to Calista; ah, yes. Even in the near-dark, she could see that his eyes were indeed flashing. "Calista, we'll talk in my office, immediately."

"Dad-" she started to protest.

" _Now_ ," he said, and she knew it was pointless to argue. She settled for sulking venomously instead; but first, she cast a sorrowful look at Marcus. She thought the look he gave her in return was probably a pretty good mirror of it.

Except, as it turned out, when they got to his office, it was only Severus who was there to talk; he didn't seem particularly interested in what Calista had to say.

"Dad, just let me explain-" she started, as they stepped into his office, but he wheeled on her, as soon as the door was closed.

"No," he said, "I've been asking you to explain since April; your time is up. Now,  _I_  will explain. You are not to even  _speak_ to that Flint boy, anymore; and lest you think to sneak around behind my back any more than you already have, rest assured that I am fully prepared to carry out my threat to have him expelled. And don't think a shared common room will help you; I'll have you in detention every single evening until curfew if I have to."

"You can't - this is the most unfair thing you've  _ever_  done to me!" she protested vehemently.

"And  _lying_ to my face for six months - do you suppose that was fair?" he countered.

"I had to," she howled, "Because I knew you were going to react like  _this_!"

"Was I? I suppose you'll never know."

"Come  _on_ ," she said, "You're… you're ruining everything, like I knew you would!"

"Well," Severus said, icily. "It seems you know me better than I know you, then; because you see,  _I'm_ utterly blindsided by  _your_ behaviour."

"Dad, can we just talk -"

"No," he said, again. "I've been asking you to talk for far too long; now, as it happens,  _I'm_  the one who isn't in the mood. Perhaps, when I become convinced that you will actually tell me the truth, I will ask you to talk. Until then, you may sleep in your old room, here, for tonight."

"I don't  _want_  to."

"I don't care."

She glared venom at him, and he looked sternly back at her.

"Good night, Calista," he said pointedly.

"Well, it  _was_ ," she sulked, storming out of his office. The door of his quarters slammed theatrically behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Aunt Narcissa,_

_Everything is ruined now. My father found out, and just as I expected, he says I am not allowed to see Marcus. He won't even listen to me, or let me explain, and he's threatened to have Marcus expelled if we keep meeting anyway._

_I wish he would realize that I'm not a small child anymore, and that Marcus is a really nice person, that we we care about each other and it's not just… I don't know, whatever he thinks it is._

_What would you do now, if you were in my place? Please give me some ideas._

_Love,_

_Calista_

After she had written to Narcissa, she sat at a study table in the Slytherin common room, supposedly studying Ancient Runes. In actuality, however, what she was doing was sulking.  _How_  had Severus found them? And why was he being so unreasonable?

When Marcus appeared in the common room, it was the first time she had seen him since he had been berated by her father; she couldn't help but look into his face, to see how he was feeling. He looked… well, in truth, he looked quite cross, when he met her gaze.

"Hey," Calista called out, softly, when he was near her. He hesitated, several paces away, neither approaching closer or walking away. "How… how are you? I mean, are you okay? He didn't… he didn't write to your parents or anything, did he?"

"I dunno," Marcus said, and there was no question that he was cross. "My parents wouldn't care, anyway. They know about us, and they don't have a problem with it. I guess they'd have a problem if I got  _expelled_ , though."

"I don't think… I don't think he can really do that," Calista said, but there was doubt evident in her tone.

Marcus shrugged. "I just don't think it's fair, is all," he said, stonily. "I didn't do anything wrong, except when he asked me about you and I lied. And I only did that for  _you_ , and now I wish I hadn't."

"I thought it would make things easier," she said.

"Well, it didn't," Marcus huffed. "It's made everything a huge mess. And I don't know what I can do… I mean, I can't get expelled, Calista. And I don't… your dad said he doesn't like liars… well, I don't like  _being_  one, and now all of a sudden, I guess I am."

"I'm… I'm sorry, Marcus."

"I shouldn't've ever listened to you," he said, crossly. "I should've just told him the truth, when he asked."

Calista closed the cover of her textbook, and exhaled. She shook her head, and looked up at Marcus sadly.

"You know what? You're right. I thought… I thought I could make things easier by keeping it secret, but I… I guess I didn't have the right to make that decision for you, too."

"No," he agreed, "You didn't."

"I'm really sorry," she said, again.

He nodded. "Okay," he said, and then, he tilted his head. "Actually, it's not okay. I'm still pretty cross, and now I'm worried he'll try to get me taken off the Quidditch team or something."

"No," Calista said, "I'm going to… as soon as he's actually listening to me, I'm going to tell him that keeping it secret was my idea, I just made you go along with it."

"Well, I could have just told the truth. Next time, I will."

"Next time?" Calista asked, hopefully. "So you don't… you don't hate me now, then?"

"Of course I don't  _hate_  you. I just… I need to think about all of this, okay? And I need to think of how I can make your dad stop hating me, not just because of you, but because he's my Head of House."

She nodded, sadly. It was really the best she could hope for; besides, she wasn't even supposed to be talking to him, and she really didn't want to get him in any more trouble.

When she watched him walk away, she was surprised by how sad it made her feel; there  _had_  to be some way to make her father understand. Didn't there?

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Severus found himself again studying the drawing Calista had made for him for Christmas. It sometimes seemed as if the girl in the drawing, as well as the girl that had given it to him, were in hiding.

Severus knew that Calista was furious with him, and he knew, also, that he had probably treated the Flint boy a bit unfairly; but how was he supposed to react, when both of them had lied to his face? He still didn't even know precisely to what extent Calista had been lying, and his priority, always, was her safety and well-being. She might think that he was unreasonable, but did she even have any idea what he was protecting her  _from_? He thought that she didn't, and that was sufficiently frightening to justify the way he'd handled the situation last night.

Perhaps he might have been more sympathetic to the Flint boy if the little bastard had had the backbone to tell him the truth; but he'd skirted away from it like a coward, evidently expecting that Severus was so easily deceived, and that irked him nearly as much as finding out that the images he had seen of the Flint boy's mouth all over his daughter's face were memories rather than fantasies.

And Calista;  _why_  did his daughter insist, always, on giving herself the most difficult path imaginable? He had thought that their trust issues were resolved, when she came to him years ago for help with the love potion  _before_  everything had blown up in her face, but evidently he'd been mistaken.

And so it seemed that  _still_  they had an unfair balance between them, but not in the way  _she_ imagined it. She might think the disparity was in the fact that he had authority and she did not; but that would only be true for a small number of remaining years, and she could continue to lie to him for as long as she pleased, while he was honest with her in nearly all things, all along.

Looking at the picture she had drawn, he knew that the secretive, moody teenager of late was still the same child that had so carefully illustrated the bond between them with nothing but the ink on the sheet of parchment. How could she manage to capture so perfectly his protective affection for her in a few penstrokes, and yet accuse him of reacting to her secret romantic relationship out of anything but that same thing?

The only explanation was that she had no real notion of the sorts of consequences she stood to face if her relationship with the Flint boy got out of hand; and if she did not understand those consequences and how she might find them, then she had no business being involved in the relationship in the first place, as he saw it. And if she had been forthcoming about what it was she wanted, then perhaps they could have  _discussed_  those consequences.

For the second day in a row, a knock came unexpectedly at his door in the evening. He hurriedly shoved Calista's drawing back into his desk, as he invited the student in.

It was the Flint boy, looking every bit as nervous and shifty-eyed as he had the night before, when Severus had hauled him bodily off his daughter in the Owlery. Severus felt his eyes narrowing, involuntarily.

"Yes, Flint?" he asked, making no real play at civility.

"Professor Snape, sir," the boy said, and at least he managed to speak more or less clearly, instead of stammering as he had last night. "I… can I talk to you?"

"Evidently," Snape said, coolly. He wasn't going to help the boy out at all.

"Erm… okay," Flint said uncertainly. "I wanted to talk to you about… erm, about the thing last night, with… with Calista."

Severus merely fixed the boy with a stare, waiting for him to continue.

"The thing the other day, too," Flint said, "When you asked me about… you know, if there was anything going on with Calista, and I said.. erm, I said there wasn't…"

Severus lifted a brow.

"Well, obviously, that er- well, that wasn't true."

Severus snorted. "Obviously."

"So… so I'm real sorry that I lied, sir, I really am. I thought… I thought maybe I could keep Calista from getting in trouble…"

"My daughter doesn't need  _you_  to protect her from  _me_ ," Severus growled. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Okay," Marcus said, taking a nervous step backwards. "Erm… I mean, okay, sir. I.. I want to say a few more things, if that's okay. And, uhm… it would be really cool if you could try not to hex me or poison me until I'm done. I mean… well, it would be great if you didn't hex me or poison me at all… or expel me. I really can't afford to be expelled…"

"I believe I've clearly spelled out the condition for avoiding that particular fate, Mr. Flint."

"Yeah," Flint pressed on, doggedly, "You did, sir. But I don't want to keep m- erm, that is, I don't want to stay away from Calista. So maybe there's… maybe there's some other things I could agree to instead."

"What you want is not a concern of mine. I've told you my condition to avoid further repercussions."

"But that's the thing," Flint said, swallowing nervously. "I don't think… I don't think there's s'posed to be 'reper-whatsists' for… for anything except lying. The rest of it… I mean, I just don't see what's wrong with… with me and Calista liking each other, and… and, you know, being together."

"Oh, really?" Severus challenged. "Please, Mr. Flint, enlighten me, then."

Flint swallowed again, and then exhaled, straightening his shoulders. "The thing is, sir, I  _really_  like Calista. She's… I mean, you know. She's different from other girls. She's… she's real clever and she's funny, and…"

He started to trail off, under the assault of Snape's continued unfriendly gaze, but he pushed himself on, recklessly.

"And she has this way of just… I dunno, it's like, every time she talks, I just want to listen to whatever she's saying and… and it makes me wish I was as clever as she is, but I know I'm not. And even when she's cross, she's just… I dunno, she's just always so… Calista is Calista, all the time, you know? She never pretends to be anything else."

Well, Flint certainly had a point, there. But Severus was not quite ready to relent, yet. He made a noise in his throat, and kept his eyes suspiciously on the boy.

"Professor Snape, sir, I've… I've liked Calista since I was twelve, and I just don't think… I mean, yeah, it would be really great for me actually if I could just stop liking her, to stop giving you reasons to hate me, keep myself out of trouble, and all. But I don't think I can, sir."

He exhaled again. "And I know… I mean, I think I know why you're worried, but you don't have to be."

"Oh, is that so?" Severus sneered.

"Yeah," Flint said, with a surprising amount of feeling. "It is. I know… I mean, I'm not daft, not like you think… I know what you think it is that I want from being with Calista, and I'm not going to… I would never do anything that would hurt her, and I would never ask her to do something she isn't okay with. I… Before I even kissed her -"

And here Severus made another queer noise in his throat again.

"-I asked her first, to make sure it was okay. And that's… what you saw going on, that's all I want right now, sir. I just want to be able to hang around with her, and… and go flying and talk and laugh with her, and, yeah, I want to kiss her once in awhile."

"And why, Flint, would  _I_  want to allow that?"

"Because, sir, I told you, I'm not gonna hurt her. I'm not… look, Professor, I know I'm not brilliant like she is, or even like most of her friends are, but… I don't  _just_  fancy her, sir. We were… we were friends, before, and I care about her a lot, and I might not be the best student, or any of that, but I promise I'm always going to be nice to her, and be her friend besides everything else."

And damn it, the boy was sincere, he really was, and Severus knew it, because the boy  _wasn't_ particularly clever, and Severus could read him like an open book. And how, indeed, could Severus continue to fault the boy for lying when he'd come here of his own volition and spilled everything, like this, even when he was clearly afraid?

Now, unbelievably, Severus was irritated with Flint for being  _too_  honest, for doing precisely what Severus had wanted him to, before. Why did he have to turn out to be something of a  _nice_  boy, after all of this? Or if he had to be one, couldn't he have waited a few more years to decide he wanted something other than friendship from his daughter?

"I'm not going to change my mind tonight," Severus settled for saying, resignedly, to the boy. "Go back to your common room, for now."

Flint nodded, and reached for the knob of his office door. He could see the tautness of the boy's nerves, the rigid set to his muscles.

"Oh, and one more thing, Flint."

Flint looked at the professor over his shoulder.

"You're not going to be expelled."

The boy's shoulders sagged in relief.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista's inability to fully concentrate on her schoolwork was something of an unfortunate pattern that week, but it wasn't solely because of her predicament with Marcus, or even because of her father's unreasonable rage.

Portia and Olivia became an unbearable enzyme in the equation; because not only was Calista distracted by her own worries and feelings, but she was constantly barraged by her two classmates' antics, as well. Word had got out, evidently, about the incident in the Owlery, and the fact that Calista and Marcus were not allowed to see each other.

Olivia had begun quoting made-up love letters to her in between classes, and in their dormitory room at night.

" _Dear Marcus_ ," she trilled one evening, when all Calista wanted to do was sleep, " _I miss you soooo much, I wish I could kiss your ugly troll face all night, but my Daddy forbids it, waaah!"_

"Shut it, you miserable hag."

But there were only so many times she could say this, to no avail. If only she hadn't explicitly promised her father she wouldn't curse anyone with the new spells he was teaching her… Olivia would be hanging midair by her ankles, with her knees reversed and slugs spewing out of her pinched, pretty little face.

When Calista fouled up a potion, for the first time in several years, Portia and Olivia gloated from across the room. It was all Calista could do not to hurt the gluey, yellowish remains of her botched Burn-Healing Paste across the classroom and into their smarmy little faces. She wasn't even certain where she'd mucked it up, perhaps it was even poisonous.

" _Dear Marcus,_ " Olivia had begun, in a sly little whisper as they left the class, and Calista spent the next five minutes imagining what it would be like to 'accidentally' smash Olivia's face in with her cauldron.

She got a reply from Narcissa on Thursday, and it did little to improve her outlook, or her temper.

_Dear Calista,_

_How exactly did your father learn of your relationship with Marcus? Judging by the wording of your letter, and the conversations we had over the summer, I suspect that you did not disclose the truth to him, as you should have. I did warn you, Calista, of what would happen should he be surprised with this._

_He is your father, darling, and you need to obey his rules. I know you're aware of this, but I feel I should state it again, so you understand that, even though I sympathise with you, I can't do anything to undermine his authority._

_I can appeal to him to open his mind a bit to the idea, but you must start being honest with him from this point forward if you want my words to have any sway at all. Remember that all of us, myself, your father, and Lucius, all simply want to do what is best for you._

_Incidentally, that classmate of yours shouldn't be a problem any longer. I understand that Lucius spoke to her mother at some length, and she's aware that she'll stand to lose much more than she could hope to have gained, if she attempts to use her daughter to manipulate our family again._

_Talk to your father, Calista, and I shall do the same._

_Your Loving Aunt,_

_Narcissa_

Well, what had she expected? An effusive outpouring of sympathy, the unachievable promise of changing Severus' mind? As much as it was irritating to admit, Narcissa was right, in a way. She  _had_  warned Calista against trying to keep her relationship with Marcus a secret, and even though Calista didn't really believe that Severus' reaction would have been very different if she'd been more forthcoming, there really wasn't any way she could prove that to Narcissa.

She hardly heard a word during the Defence Against the Dark Arts lecture, but it didn't seem as if she would miss anything important, anyway.

Professor Mulhorn, it turned out, had not been completely forthcoming about her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores in the subject, and had been sacked at the end of the prior school year. Her replacement, Professor Thatch, was a scrawny old man with a thin, reedy voice, and a distinctly boring method of teaching; they had yet to raise their wands once, in his class. Instead, he droned on and on, tedious lectures that put most of the students in mind of Professor Binns.

This, unfortunately, gave Olivia and Portia plenty of opportunity to pull faces at her, and whisper, ' _Dear Marcus'_  in snide little hisses that carried across the quiet room to her desk, but not quite up to the elderly professor.

 _Dear Olivia_ , Calista thought darkly,  _Shut the hell up before I light your hair on fire_.

They were leaving the classroom, Calista with her books held tight, and her mind elsewhere, when Portia bumped into her, hard, in the corridor.

"What the hell is your  _problem_?" Calista snarled, as she bent to pick up her books and papers, which had scattered along the stone floor. She tried to hide the uptick in her heart rate, the fleeting jumpy startled feeling that hit her, still, every time she was touched unexpectedly by anyone but a very select group of people.

"What's this?" Olivia asked, snatching up a sheet of parchment that had fallen out of Calista's book. It was only her notes for the Charms essay she was working on, but Olivia held it up, and pretended to read it aloud to everyone that was walking by.

" _Dear Marcus_ ," she said loudly, derisively, " _I love your troll face so much I can't stand it! But my grouchy old Daddy won't let me love you!"_

Several students had stopped to watch the scene unfold; a few of them jeered, evidently amused by Olivia's pretend love letter; Calista reached for her parchment back, but Olivia held it up higher.

"It's  _not_ a letter," Calista yelled, for everyone watching more than to Olivia. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to reach for her wand and cast every curse she knew. Her fingers itched to do it, her skin burned for wanting it.

" _Oh, Marcus,_ " Olivia simpered in exaggerated tones, " _Let's get married, and have the world's ugliest babies together!_ "

A couple of students chuckled; there were more people now, and even though Professor Thatch had ventured out into the corridor and was asking everyone to disperse in his thin voice, no one was paying him any mind.

" _But first, let's go snog in the Owlery_!" Olivia squealed, and she proceeded to make exaggerated kissing sounds, puckering her lips up and fluttering her eyelashes. " _We can hide behind my big nose, no one will see us!_ "

And then, there was a resounding  _thud_ in the corridor, as Calista dropped her books on the floor deliberately; and then a furious howl, as Calista launched herself at Olivia. She clenched her fist, hauled off, and hit Olivia right in her pretty little face, as hard as she could.

"Shut up, Olivia  _Gamp_!" she yelled, and then everything happened very fast.

Olivia was gasping and crying, and blood oozed out of her nose; around her right eye was swelling and darkening, already.

Students were cheering and catcalling, a lot more noise than there had been when Olivia was pretending to read one of Calista's letters, but then, it was a mixed crowd, students from every House, and it appeared that Olivia was not at all popular among any of the other three Houses.

A couple of Gryffindor boys were patting Calista on the back, and congratulating her; she realised with a start that they were Percy's younger brothers, Fred and George.

"Brilliant, Professor Snape," one of them said, "A hundred points for Slytherin!"

"Nah," the other one was saying, "That other one's in Slytherin, too, better just give the points to Gryffindor -"

"Right you are, Fred-"

Professor Thatch was in the center of the crowd now, pleading for order; but now Argus Filch was striding into the crowd, too, and screaming for order.

" _ALL STUDENTS OUT OF THE CORRIDORS NOW_!" Filch shrieked ,"Get to your classrooms or your common rooms,  _now_! Except you -" he pointed to Olivia, who was being fussed over by Portia and a couple of her third-year friends, "and  _you_."

Between them, Professor Thatch and Caretaker Filch managed to clear the corridor, but for the two of them, and then Professor Thatch directed Portia to take Olivia to the Hospital Wing, while Filch rounded on Calista.

"The Snape brat," he snarled, and then he addressed Professor Thatch. "I've no doubt this one was the instigator," he said, "Nasty little brat, she physically assaulted me once, you know. I'll be happy to administer her punishment, if you like."

Calista glowered at Filch; she wasn't afraid of him, in that moment, not like she had been when she was a first year. Perhaps it was because she knew self-defence spells now, or perhaps it was because she knew that no matter how cross her father was with her, he'd never allow anyone to physically punish her. Or, perhaps it was simply the adrenalin that still rushed through her veins from having hit Olivia.

"No, no, I'll handle her discipline, Argus," Professor Thatch surprised her by saying. "A detention it will be, and I'll be informing your Head of House too, young lady."

"Are you sure it will do any good?" Filch sneered, "Her head of House is her father, you know, and he's quite  _soft_  on her."

"Well, that's not my concern," Thatch said, "You'll serve your detention with me after dinner this evening, Miss Snape. I have quite a large number of papers in my office that need filing. Whether your Head of House decides to mete out an additional punishment is between he and you. Now, do you have another class to get to?"

Calista nodded. "I have… I have Transfiguration." She decided not to specify that it was her Remedial class that she was now late to.

"I'll write you a pass for being tardy," Professor Thatch said, and then he pointed his finger at her sternly. "See that you do not engage in any more brawls in the corridors, young lady. I'll see you this evening."

All things considered, she had not come off too badly for what she'd done, but of course the  _last_  thing she needed now was to give her father a reason to give her additional detentions. Still… even though she knew what she had done was ill-advised, she couldn't quite bring herself to say that she  _regretted_ it; the snot-nosed little cow had had it coming for quite some time, as she saw it. Olivia was just lucky that it had been Calista's fist that hit her, instead of a curse.

Portia and Olivia didn't show up at dinner that night, and Yvette Spinelli, one of Olivia's third-year hangers-on told everyone who would listen that she was still in the hospital wing, recovering from a "dueling injury".

Calista snorted, but she didn't have to say anything, because enough people had seen or heard the real story; so many at the Slytherin table were talking about it in, in fact, that Calista kept casting worried glances at the High Table to make sure her father wasn't about to come over and admonish her in front of everyone.

Sofia and Eva peppered her with questions about what had happened in the corridor, but Calista wasn't in a particularly talkative mood, and she brushed them off.

Her detention was just as tedious as Professor Thatch's lectures; she found herself  _almost_  wishing she was sorting flobberworms instead, especially after she got a papercut.

It was past nine o'clock when she got back to her common room, tired and still not in a very good mood. She started, when someone catcalled her arrival.

It was Endria Folland, Marcus' pretty friend that she had once been jealous of. She  _had_ made Prefect, just as everyone had predicted. She was sitting at a table with Marcus and Derek Logan, parchment spread out across the surface of the table, but she got up when Calista came in.

"That was pretty bold, Calista," Endria said, "Messing up Olivia's face like that."

"Yeah, well," Calista said, still uncertain whether Endria approved or not. "I just wanted her to shut up."

Marcus stood up, too, and he looked like he was in better spirits than he had been in days. Derek looked decidedly put out, however, and he glared at her from behind Endria and Marcus' backs.

"Well, strictly speaking," Endria said, and she fingered her Prefect badge. "I'm disappointed you attacked another student, especially one of our own. But, you know… as Marcus' friend…" she winked. "We're all right."

"What are you working on?" Calista wondered, because it seemed unusual to see Marcus working on homework on a Friday evening.

"Oh, Divination," Marcus said, "It was due yesterday, but I told her I got poked in my third eye, and couldn't see…"

Calista snorted, despite her rotten mood. "She bought that?"

"Yeah, now I have until Monday. Endria and Derek're helping me think of rubbish predictions to make… You know Trelawney told me yesterday to avoid the Owlery?"

"How insightful."

"Yeah…" Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. Endria shot a look between Calista and Marcus, and then went back to the table, sitting down and picking up her own book; it looked like she had been working on Astronomy homework.

"So," Marcus said, and he took a step closer to her, though he wasn't as close as they would have stood if this was a week ago. "I heard what happened earlier, with Olivia…"

"Yeah," Calista said, "She was… I just couldn't take it anymore."

"I can't believe you hit her," Marcus said, and he looked and sounded rather impressed. "Real good, too, from what I heard. I would've thought you'd hex her, instead."

"Yeah, well," Calista said, "My dad's told me loads of times that I'm not allowed to hex my classmates. He never actually said anything about punching them…"

Marcus chuckled. "I told you," he said, "You'd make a hell of a Beater."

He was looking at her almost reverently now; but Calista was still all too aware of what had happened, how things had changed. And besides, she'd had enough of detention for today. She didn't want to give her father an excuse to give her another, or to punish Marcus for talking to her.

"So," she said, "I guess I should just go to my room, now. I have homework, and stuff… and I don't think I can concentrate, here. Hopefully Olivia's still in the Hospital Wing."

"She is," Marcus said, "Or at least, she hasn't come back through here. Dunno why, though, Emily said her nose wasn't broken, or anything. Portia came back, though, so watch out for her."

Calista nodded. "Thanks for the warning."

She looked at him for a minute; even now, after everything that had happened, even knowing that he was likely still cross with her, she couldn't help but notice how nice he looked. The longer she had known him, the more absurd Olivia's comments about his 'troll face' seemed. She thought he looked nothing like a troll; he was, in Calista's opinion, the most attractive boy at school. She only wished she could see him grin, again.

"Good night, Marcus," she said.

"Calista…" He looked, for a minute, like there was something he wanted to tell her, but then he shook his head. "Good night."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When morning came, Calista groaned, and pulled her covers up over her head. It had been a rough night.

Portia wouldn't quite start trouble with her without Olivia there to back her up; she'd tried halfheartedly to get Emily to agree that Calista was as ugly as a hag, but Emily had only insisted that she wanted to stay out of it, and refused to either disparage or defend Calista.

Still, Portia knew that Calista had a Saturday morning lesson, and all three of them knew that was the reason that she insisted on staying up half the night, reading, with all the lamps in the room lit.

For perhaps an hour, she and Calista had gone back and forth, lighting them and putting them out, over and over, until Calista had given up, and put her pillow over her head to try and block out the light.

She didn't sleep well at all, and it wasn't only due to the bright lights in the room; she was  _still_  unbelievably upset, both with her father and with herself, over the way things had gone with Marcus. She couldn't imagine how she was going to sit across from him for three hours in an Occlumency lesson, when she wanted simultaneously to hide from him and scream at him.

But then… it occurred to her, as she woke up from an uneasy half-sleep, she didn't have to, did she? She had the dormitory room to herself, as both Portia and Emily had evidently gotten up for breakfast already… and after all, her timetable said 'Elective Studies'. Well, today, she wanted to  _elect_ not to go.

She rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep.

Perhaps thirty minutes later, the dormitory room door opened. Calista peeked out from under the blanket to see Emily slipping into the room.

"Er… Calista, are you awake?"

"No," Calista grumbled.

"Calista… your dad wants to see you. He's in the common room."

She sat up quickly; she hadn't expected  _that_. He didn't come to the common room often. She supposed she'd assumed that he would find her at dinner, or reprimand her after her next Potions class. She hadn't thought he'd send Emily to fetch her from bed.

"Tell him to sod off," she said, but she was already out of bed, taking her robes out of her wardrobe.

"Calista! I'm not going to tell him that."

"Fine," she said, "Tell him I'll be there in a minute, then. I have to get dressed first."

Emily left, and Calista hurriedly dressed and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

She went to the common room, and Severus was indeed standing by its entrance, looking impatient. She noticed that it was much quieter in the common room than it usually was on a Saturday morning. She wondered if the volume would rise promptly when they left.

She decided not to say anything to him yet, not here, where any argument they got into would have a full audience. Instead, she followed him wordlessly through the dungeons, until they reached his quarters.

In silence, Severus led her into the kitchen, and waved his wand over the table. A variety of breakfast foods appeared, summoned up from the kitchens.

"Eat," Severus said, gesturing towards the table.

Calista took her customary chair, and yanked a pastry towards her, stuffing it into her mouth.

Severus went over to the worktop, and brewed a fresh batch of coffee. He filled two mugs, and set one in front of Calista, taking the other to his chair, and sitting down as well. Still, she had not said a word to him. For a second, he recalled similar silences, at this very table, years ago.

She reached for the coffee, and took a sip of it, swallowing the remains of her pastry. When she set the mug down, she looked at him, answering an unspoken challenge.

"I don't feel like having an Occlumency lesson today," she said, "And since you wrote it into my timetable as 'Elective', I guess I can decide that."

"You don't need to have a lesson today,' he agreed, surprising her. "But you do need to stay here with me for the duration of your usual lesson time. So, we can have your lesson after all, or we can talk. Your choice - or should I say, your  _elective_?"

"What's the point in talking?" she asked, "When you're not going to listen to me, anyway?"

He regarded her solemnly for a moment. He hadn't touched his own coffee, yet.

"I wonder, Calista," he said, softly. "How old do you think I am?"

"Huh?" It was such an unexpected question that she forgot to sound combative. "I dunno...Maybe thirty-five, or forty. I've never thought about it."

"I'm thirty," he told her, and he watched her face.

"Hang on," she said, and he could see her working it out, "But…  _I'm_  fourteen. That would mean that you… when I was born, you were only-"

"Sixteen," Severus supplied. "That's correct."

"But you were still a  _student_ ," she said, "Weren't you?"

"I was," Severus said. "Although admittedly, I did not know that I had fathered a child until much later; I do not know that I would have finished school in the same fashion, had I been aware of it."

"Was  _she_  still a student?"

"No," Severus said, "She was twenty-five. I never actually went to school with her; I met her through Lucius and Narcissa, and through our shared… interests."

Well, she knew what  _that_ meant. She shivered.

"I believe you already understand what I am getting at here, but in case you don't, I'm going to spell it out for you. I engaged in a sexual relationship when I was only two years older than you are now, which produced a child that, had it been required of me, I would not have had the means to care for."

She winced as soon as he said sexual; "Eugh, Dad, come on. I don't need to know that."

"Actually," Severus said, "If you have any hope of convincing me that you should be allowed to enter into a romantic relationship with Mr. Flint, then you do need to know it, and to understand why I don't want you to make the same mistake."

Her face flushed red. " _Dad_ ," she said, horrified. "I'm not going… I'm not going to do that!"

"I thought precisely the same thing; and then, I found myself in the situation I've just described to you."

"Okay," she said, "I feel really bad, I mean… that must have been really hard, especially when… especially when you found out, you know, about me…"

"You were the only positive thing to come out of the entire experience, actually, although I didn't know it at the time."

"Okay," she said again, "But… you bought me all those horrible, embarrassing books before. I thought that was the deal, I read the books and we don't ever have to talk about this stuff."

"That was the deal," he agreed, "But I'm afraid it's time for a new arrangement. If you want me to believe that you are mature enough to have a boyfriend-"

The word twisted its way out of his lips, as though it tasted very unpleasant.

"-Then you must convince me of three things. One, that you understand the consequences of getting in over your head. Two, that you will be completely and totally forthcoming with me, in the future, no matter how you think I might react. And three, that the boy you wish to be involved with is suitable."

"Aunt Narcissa says he is," Calista said, because it was the easiest of the three to address.

"Ah, yes, I received such assurances from Narcissa herself by owl yesterday. However, my definition of suitable differs from hers. I don't care at all what sort of family your potential suitor comes from, I have a different set of criteria in mind."

"And what are those?"

"Well, if I told you, it would be too easy for you to convince me he fit them, wouldn't it? Suffice it to say that two of them include being aware of the consequences of getting in over his head, and being completely and totally forthcoming with me, no matter how he thinks I might react."

"Marcus wanted to tell you the truth," she said, "I'm the one that convinced him not to."

"I gathered that," Severus told her, "But let's return to the first point of consideration, shall we?"

"Please don't say anything else about  _that thing_ , it's gross."

"Perhaps you are telling me the truth, that you have no intentions of entertaining a… a sexual relationship," he said, and both of them winced involuntarily, "But even if you are, even if you don't want that now, some day you will."

"Eugh, stop it. I should've just said I'd do the lesson today."

"Calista," he said, with quiet authority, "I don't want to do this any more than you do; but you lied to me for six months about a relationship that had you frequently engaging in… in  _romantic encounters_ , alone, in the dark, with a male a year older than you. We don't have a choice, any longer."

He paused, and it was true that he looked as distinctly uncomfortable as Calista felt. She reached for her coffee, and took a long, fortifying sip. This was going to be the longest, most embarrassing, awful conversation of her life, she felt certain of it.

"You will want to escalate things physically at some point, or he will, and I need to be sure that you can say 'no' when you are not ready… and that you can actually tell when you are ready, and when you are not."

"I can tell," she said, "I'm not."

"But," he pressed on, "There will come a time when you may think that you are; and I learned the hard way that the first time you think you are, you probably are not. That's why it is important for you to  _be_  forthcoming, with yourself, your… your  _partner_ … and with me."

"I am  _never_  going to come in here to talk about… about  _that_ ," she said, "You have to realise that."

"If you plan on doing  _that_  before you are of age," Severus said, testily. "Then yes, you do have to come talk to me, or to Narcissa, so we can talk you  _out_ of it; unless you'd prefer for me to find out after the fact, in which case I cannot promise you there will not be corpses."

His nostrils flared; even considering the possibility of her winding up in that situation while she was still underaged made him want to murder someone. Perhaps he had not been exaggerating when he'd told her so.

"I know that your schooling is important to you," Severus said, "Remember that if  _you_  were to wind up in my situation, you would not be so lucky as I was; you would not be able to finish out your time at Hogwarts if you… if you found yourself with child."

" _Dad!_ " she growled, "I am  _never_  going to have children, and  _definitely_  not while I'm a student. I don't  _want_  to… to have sex with Marcus, okay? I don't! I know I'm way too young for that, I'm barely okay with kissing him - if it were  _anyone_  else, I couldn't even do  _that_  without wanting to vomit, okay? And I  _really_ don't want to talk about this anymore!"

"Calista," he said tiredly, "I don't want to, either. But I have to, because you have not been honest with me, and I fear for your well-being. I need you to understand what can happen, because  _I_  know firsthand that a teenager can be taken advantage of, and convinced to do things they don't truly want to."

Perhaps she could hear the pained note in his voice, because she stopped scowling, and reached for her coffee again; her eyes were on him, attentively, at least.

"And I am male, Calista. It is so much easier, so much more common, for females to be taken advantage of. It is my charge to protect you, until you are of age - although I expect to be doing it long past then, if you still need it - and I  _need_  you to stop fighting me all the way, when I'm trying to do just that."

"Okay," she said quietly, after a moment had passed. "What do you want me to say, then?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Severus said, "All of it."

"The truth about what? About.. about Marcus?"

He nodded. "That would be a good start."

She finished her coffee, and set the mug on the table, pushing it a little ways away from her.

"You… you have to promise not to kill me until I'm done, then, all right?"

Severus hid a smirk, because it was nearly the same thing Marcus had said to him, days ago.

"I promise," he said, "If you will promise me that you are actually going to be honest, now."

"I… Fine, I promise."

He nodded, and waited for her to start talking.

She told him all of it, from Marcus defending her in the common room years ago when Olivia had teased her in front of everyone, to studying with her, each of them helping each other in different subjects. She told him how he had always been easy to talk to, because he never made fun of her, and when he did tease her, it was always in a good-natured way, and he even specified that it was so.

She told him about learning to fly, that she had finally admitted to being afraid, and he had taken her up with him, reassuring her that he would not let her fall; she told him of her slow progress, and the fact that he never got impatient with her, and, true to his word, she never fell. She told him how she began to realise that perhaps there was  _one_ boy who wasn't completely repulsive, and how she had tried to talk herself out of thinking this way for weeks before she'd finally given in to having a crush on him.

She told him, too, how she had been unable to stop herself from blushing around Marcus, and even that she'd missed the first two times he'd tried to tell her that he fancied her. She told him about Olivia saying she liked him too, and trying to kiss him, and that first conversation in the Owlery. She told him how she hadn't believed him at first, but then, slowly, everything he was saying had sunk in.

She told him how he had asked permission before the first time he kissed her, and that she was so nervous she'd been afraid she might faint, right then and there; but that it being Marcus she was kissing made it seem not quite so frightening, because she knew him, and she trusted him. She told him about their ongoing dispute, him wanting to be honest about their relationship, and she insisting that they keep it a secret.

It was a story that she told with an extreme amount of blushing, and false starts, even with some of the hair-twirling that she tried so hard not to engage in; More than once, she'd looked as if she wanted to crawl under the table and hide, but Severus kept his expression neutral and his attention fixed on his daughter, until the story was done.

"And now it's… now it's this," she said. "It's all ruined now, and the more time goes by, the more I realise it's my fault, for wanting to keep it all a secret. But I was just so afraid… I didn't want you to tell me I couldn't see him, and then when you found out, that's exactly what happened."

"I reacted poorly," Severus admitted, grudgingly. "But try to understand, I had proof in one instant that you were lying to me, both of you. How was I to know for certain that you  _hadn't_  already -"

" _Please_  don't say it," Calista interrupted, and Severus acquiesced, for once, because  _he_  didn't want to say it, either.

"I had no idea what had already happened," Severus amended, "And my first thought was that I had to protect you. I found out, you know, because another student came to me and said that Mr. Flint was trying to take advantage of you."

"But that's a  _lie,_ " Calista said, adamantly. "Marcus would  _never_  do that to me. Whoever said that doesn't know what they're talking about -"

And then it dawned on her. "It was Olivia, wasn't it? She found all of the letters he wrote me over the summer, in my Arithmancy book, and she was reading them out loud."

Ah, well  _that_  explained the story he'd heard from Professor Thatch, now didn't it?

"It doesn't matter who it was," Severus said, because he didn't want to give her a reason to procure another detention, "I would have found out very soon; I had already decided to give you another week to tell the truth before I forced it out of you."

"You said you wouldn't do that-"

"I said I would not read your thoughts, as long as you talked to me," he said, paraphrasing the bargain they had struck many years ago, when she uttered her first words to him. "And you had more or less stopped doing that."

"What would have happened?" she asked, curiously. "If I told you the truth, from the beginning?"

"We would have had a conversation very similar to this," Severus said, "And I would have wanted one with Mr. Flint, as well."

"I don't think he would've wanted to do that," Calista said, remembering what he had told her about being afraid of Calista's dad.

"Well, it would seem that he wants to be allowed to date you more than he wants to avoid a conversation with me," Severus told her, "Because he came to see me about you, already, unbidden."

"He  _did_? When?"

"The very next evening."

"What did he… I mean, what did you talk about?"

"What do you think? His intentions with you."

Oh, gods, how embarrassing.

"And… what happened? Did you… did you tell him he still couldn't see me?"

"I told him I wasn't going to change my mind that night."

He eyed her again, and spoke to her seriously.

"Calista, I need you to promise me that this is the end of your lying to me, your being so secretive. I thought we had resolved this years ago, when you came to me about that potion, but evidently I was wrong. From this point forward, I need you to be honest with me, all the time. I may not always react in the way that you wish me to, but I can guarantee that I'll find out everything I want to one way or another, and I'll react  _much_  more amicably to whatever happens if you're honest with me as it is happening."

"Okay," she said, exhaling. "I promise."

"This is it," he told her, injecting a forceful levity into his tone. "If you break this promise, I will not trust you anymore. You will not be allowed out of the castle or the flat on your own, you will not be allowed free use of my owl, and you most certainly will not be allowed to date anyone in the impending future."

"I promise, Dad," she said again, quietly but, mercifully, with sincerity. "I hate keeping secrets from you. It's difficult, and it feels awful."

"Then don't do it anymore," he said, sternly.

"I won't," she said, "I really won't."

She rose, and came around to where he was seated. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said, quietly.

He waited until she had let go of him, and then he stood as well, and this time he initiated the embrace between them, wrapping his arms around her back, and pulling her close. Even when they were standing, if she stretched just a bit, she could rest her chin on his shoulder.

"So," she said, when they had separated. "What about… what about Marcus?"

"You are forbidden from going to the Owlery with him, or anywhere else where you will be alone together. I will consider everything else."

Well, that was far better than she had hoped for. She nodded. "Thanks," she said, because it seemed appropriate.

"Oh, and one more thing," Severus said, and Calista braced herself, in case this was going to be about something horribly embarrassing again.

"Since it has come to my attention that it may have been unclear, I would prefer if you did not physically assault your classmates, no matter how dearly they might deserve it."

She allowed a sly little smile. "I'll try not to, again."

He nodded. "Well," he said, "Your three hours is up. I expect you're eager to go."

"Actually," she said, hopefully. "I was wondering… maybe we could make a potion together?"

He allowed a small, crooked smile to trace a path across his face. "I believe the Hospital Wing needs some more Burn-Healing Paste," he said, "And I believe you need some practise with it, as well."


	6. Chapter 6

Now that Severus seemed like he might possibly warm to the idea of Calista having a boyfriend before another six years had passed, a prospect which she hardly dared to hope for, Calista decided to do everything in her power to prove to Severus that she could be trusted to handle the relationship.

She forced herself to focus even harder than usual on her schoolwork; she caught up on all of the work she'd botched during the previous stressful week, and she stayed up late studying every night. If some of those study sessions happened to be with Marcus, well, she could still use his help in Transfiguration, and he could use hers in Potions, so at least she had a valid excuse.

Olivia had backed down considerably, if not completely, so avoiding another detention was not as difficult as it could have been. She still made snide whispered comments to Calista when they were in their dorm room, and occasionally in Defence Against the Dark Arts class, or if they were in a fairly empty corridor together, but it seemed she had lost her nerve when it came to antagonising Calista in front of a crowd.

When she'd shared this observation with Amelia, her friend had grinned and said, "Well, if we knew that would happen, you could've punched her in the face ages ago. Portia, too."

Of course, even with all of the measures Calista was taking to convince her father to allow her to date Marcus, she supposed it could never hurt to enlist a little support, so she wrote to Narcissa again.

_Dear Aunt Narcissa,_

_You're right, in that I didn't talk to my dad about the situation until after he found out, but I've talked to him now. I realise it was stupid to try and hide what was happening, but at the time I guess I thought I knew what I was doing._

_He seems a bit like he might actually allow me to see Marcus after all, if I can make him realise that he can still trust me, and if I can make him see that Marcus is "suitable". I think he wants to know that Marcus is going to be kind to me, more than anything, which of course he is, he always is._

_My dad told me that you wrote to tell him that you said you approved of Marcus; thank you for that. I think it helped, some._

_Thank you for helping me with the Olivia thing, too. She more or less leaves me alone now._

_Love,_

_Calista_

_PS - Please tell Draco I said hello. I'll try to bring more stuff for a new potion at Christmas._

She had stretched the truth a bit about the Olivia situation, because despite every obnoxious thing that Olivia had done since that letter from her mother and the strange argument in their dormitory room, she still had an uneasy feeling about the entire situation.

She tried not to wonder precisely what Lucius had said to Olivia's parents, that had made them write something to Olivia that made her cry in a way Calista had never seen, not in over three years of sharing a room with her.

She wanted Olivia to leave her alone, but she didn't want to ruin the other girl's relationships with her family, or anything like that. Maybe Olivia would be that vindictive, but Calista didn't want to be.

She'd never tell him of course, but sometimes, when she wanted to give in to her rage, and plan some humiliation or retaliation against Olivia, she tried to consider what Percy would think of her if she did it; Percy who had first pointed out to her that she had to actually be  _nice_  to people if she wanted them to be her friend. It seemed embarrassing to her now that she had once needed to have that explained to her.

She didn't want Olivia for a friend, but she also didn't want to be the sort of person that Olivia was, no matter how much the other girl seemed intent on provoking her. She supposed she ought even to feel bad about hitting her in the face in the corridor outside of Defence Against the Dark Arts, but her desire to be a kind sort of person didn't  _quite_  extend far enough to feel regret for that. She hadn't done any lasting damage, and Olivia had been asking for it.

Besides, there was no denying that it had been effective.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista and Marcus sat at a study table together in the Slytherin common room, he frowning over a lunar chart and a complicated diagram that Calista thought would look at home in her Arithmancy book, and she poring over the book that Professor Flitwick had lent her.

Things had certainly gotten awkward between them since Severus had discovered them in the Owlery, but as time went on, and now that they were no longer barred from spending time together, as long as they weren't alone, they were settling into a more normal pattern.

They hadn't kissed since that night, because Severus had still not agreed that she could date Marcus, but at least they were allowed to be friends again - albeit friends that obviously harboured crushes on each other. It was particularly frustrating for Marcus, whose parents had no problem with their relationship, but Calista thought he was being remarkably understanding about it, all things considered.

"I still can't believe you're reading that huge book for fun," Marcus commented, glancing aside at her. He had his forehead resting in his hand, fingers messing up his hair.

"Well, it's not  _just_  for fun, I actually want to see if I can learn to do magic without a wand."

"But  _why_?" Marcus wondered, setting his quill down. "I mean, you have a wand, so…"

"Well, what if I was disarmed, in a duel?"

Marcus grinned. "Duh, punch the other guy in the face."

She snorted. "Yeah, something tells me that might not always work." She shifted a little closer to him. "How's your homework coming?"

"I dunno, I'm running out of horrible things to predict. She makes us do these charts every month, and she doesn't like repeats."

"Does she actually check to see if any of your predictions come true?"

"Don't think so… I mean, a couple months ago I was s'posed to be decapitated with a sword, and she never said anything about the fact that I still had my head."

"You're joking," Calista said, shaking her head. "You can't really be turning in rubbish like that?"

"Oh, yeah, everyone does," Marcus said, "It's the biggest joke. I mean, yeah, you get one or two people actually trying to do the research and all that, but they don't do any better than the rest of us."

"How do the O.W.L. exams work for that class, then?" Calista wondered. "I mean, they have to use  _some_  sort of objective measure to mark you, don't they?"

"Huh?" He looked at her as if she'd just started speaking French.

"How are they going to test you?" she asked. "The Wizarding Examinations Authority, I mean?"

"I dunno. Hopefully they'll just have us look into a crystal ball, or something. That's what Trelawny's exam was last year. I told her I saw a burning building, lots of smoke…"

"There's got to be some sort of real science to it, right?" Calista asked, reaching for his textbook.

Marcus snorted. "Good luck figuring it out, I tried."

She flipped through the contents of his book. "Well, what about tea leaves, and palm reading?" she asked. "Does that stuff really work?"

"Er - I don't think so."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, flipping to the section on palm reading.

"'Cause I dropped my tea leaves on the floor by mistake before she came over to check my predictions, and she still said they were right."

"Hm." She had his book open on the table in front of her now, and she was squinting at the palm of her hand, and looking back at the book. "I think I might be dead," she commented. "See, look, my life line is broken, there - but, oh, it looks like I'll come back to life at some point, there it is again. I hope this doesn't mean I'm going to be an inferi, or something."

She held her hand out for him to look. He chuckled, but took her hand, and squinted at it. "That's not how it works," he said, "It doesn't mean you're gonna die, it means… like, something bad is gonna happen. Or already happened. I forget which."

"Well, can we find out? That's kind of an important distinction," she teased, pulling her hand back. "I don't know, maybe this  _is_  all rubbish. I don't see how my palm can know what's going to happen to me before  _I_  do."

He pulled his book back towards him, and studied the same set of pages she had been. "No, hang on, I remember this now. Give me your hand again."

She held it out, and he squinted at her palm carefully, referring back to his book several times. She thought the whole thing was a bit stupid after all, but she didn't mind him holding her hand, so she didn't say so again.

"Okay," he said, "So this is your left hand, that means it's your past. So… you had a traumatic event when you were real little - maybe more than one, the break's pretty wide - and look, it's faint for awhile when it comes back, so that means you were still traumatised, or whatever… but it looks fine at the end, so I guess you're normal again. And let's see-"

She yanked her hand back. "This is stupid. Forget it."

He frowned, looking at her carefully. "Are you okay, Calista? You're making this face…"

"Oh? And which face would that be?"

"Well… you look kind of scared. Like when we went flying the first couple of times."

"I'm not scared. Why would I be scared of a bunch of stupid rubbish in your Divination book?"

"See, I've sort of noticed that you call things 'stupid' when you're afraid of them," he hedged.

She narrowed her eyes into a glare, casting about for a retort, but before she had one, he had reached for her hand again; just to hold it this time, though, not to try and read it.

"Hey, I'm not trying to tease you," he said, as if  _he_  were the one studying Legilimency. "I really was asking if you're okay."

"Of course I am," she snapped, snatching her hand away from him.

"Okay," he said doubtfully. He closed the cover of his book, and rubbed the back of his neck. An awkward silence loomed between them, not their first since they'd been allowed back on speaking terms again, but certainly one of their most intense.

"It's… that thing you said," she finally said, her voice quite low, so that he had to strain to her her. "It's just… it's kind of true, is all."

He furrowed his brow. "The… the life line thing?"

She nodded, and rubbed the palm of her left hand absently with the thumb of her right hand, as if she were trying to rub the evidence away.

"Was it… was it what you said before? Your mum, hurting you?"

"Could you just… could you, like, start writing, or something?" she asked him, and it seemed like such an odd request that he just blinked at her, several times in succession.

"Uh… why?" he asked.

"Because it… it makes it easier for me to say things," she confessed. "If you're… if it seems like you're busy. I don't know why, that's just… that's just how I've always been. I think it comes from talking to my dad while he was marking essays all the time."

"Okay," he picked up his quill dutifully, and began to scrawl randomly at the corner of a sheet of parchment.

"Not like - not like that," she said, uncomfortably. She could feel heat rising to her cheeks. Why did she have to have such an odd requirement to feel comfortable talking about her past? "You have to actually be doing something, not just pretending to."

"Erm, okay," he said again, and he pulled his lunar chart closer, frowned at it, and started making notations - or at least, doing a much better job pretending to make notations.

"So… so it was that," Calista breathed quietly, kneeling on the chair, and leaning over his lunar chart, so that their heads would be quite close together, and no one could hear them. "Like you said.  _Her_. She… well, it was awful, for a long time. Until I… until I wasn't with her, anymore."

"When she went to Azkaban?" Marcus ventured, quietly.

"Before that," she said, "There was… someone took me from her, I think I was five or six. I stayed at this house for awhile, with this other family… I don't really remember very much from that… and then there was an orphanage…  _that_  was awful too, but nothing was as awful as her."

"What about your dad?" Marcus asked. "He's really protective of you, he must've tried to make sure nothing bad happened to you…"

"Well, that's why he's so protective," Calista confessed; she paused, when she saw that Marcus' quill had stilled. "Uhm… can you keep writing?"

"Sorry," he said, scratching the quill along the page again. Calista relaxed slightly.

"That's why he's so protective," she repeated, "Because he wasn't… I mean, no one was there before, when it was just me and… just me and  _her_. And I think… I mean, I  _know_  he had no idea, the kinds of things that had happened, until after, when… you know, when they already happened."

She frowned, and then shook her head quickly. "No; that's it. I just realised - that's why he was so cross about the Owlery… about me not telling him the truth. He doesn't… he doesn't want to find out about something too late to help me again."

Marcus stopped writing again, and a mingled look of hurt and confusion slowly seeped into his features. "But… but  _I'm_  not… I don't want to  _hurt_ you. I just want to kiss you, honest."

A ghost of a smile flirted with Calista's lips. "Well, I think he might realise that  _now_ ," she said, "But maybe he wasn't sure, at first."

Marcus nodded, a bit uncertainly. "Calista?"

"Yeah?"

"Erm… can I stop writing, now?"

She flushed, and nodded. "Yeah, I… sorry. did you at least get some of your homework done?"

"Well, no," Marcus said sheepishly, "I didn't know what to write, so I just started jotting down Quidditch moves…" He pushed the parchment towards her so she could see.

"So… it says you're going to do the Porskoff Play next Thursday, because of Jupiter."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I guess I better start over…"

"Oh. Well… What if I help you, since I'm the one that made you mess it up?"

"Yeah," Marcus said hopefully, "I bet I'll finish a lot faster that way - you don't have to do that," he said, because she was reaching for his textbook again. "I'm just going to make a bunch of stuff up."

She raised her eyebrows, then shrugged, and let go of the book. "If that's what you want… let's see then, why don't you lose a wrestling match with an ogre on Monday… because of, hm, Venus in the seventh house."

"Yeah, that's good." He wrote it down. "Then on Tuesday, I'll… fall down a flight of stairs."

"Because of?"

"Erm… Mars?"

She snorted. "I can't believe this is a real class."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

_Dear Calista,_

_I'm pleased to hear that you've finally spoken to your father, and I hope you've learned your lesson - I don't mean to lecture you, darling, but I don't want to see you put yourself in such a dreadful position again._

_I'm very much looking forward to seeing you and your father for Christmas, and Draco is excited to make another potion with you. He expects he'll be the top student in the class next year when he starts at Hogwarts himself, and you know, I think he might be correct._

_I've had an idea - do you think your young man would want to come to our home for dinner during the Christmas break? Not on the holiday of course, but perhaps a few days after. Lucius is acquainted with Marcus' father, so it would not seem strange for him to invite him for dinner and have him bring his wife and son. Perhaps that would put your father at ease? At any rate, Lucius and I would like to meet your young man, if you think he'd like to come._

_I'm pleased that your other issue has been resolved. I did tell you, darling, that your family will always help you._

_Your Loving Aunt,_

_Narcissa_

Actually, having Marcus and his parents over for dinner at the Malfoys' did not sound like altogether a terrible plan, as long as Severus didn't do something mad like threaten him again, in front of his parents. She winced, when she thought of that. Hopefully, Severus was beyond such actions now - but you could really never be certain, with him. She decided to ask Marcus what he thought before she wrote back to Narcissa.

Perhaps two weeks before Christmas, they had a spell of warm days; Calista heard from Percy that the Gryffindor Quidditch team had decided to take advantage of one of them to get in some extra practise, and when Percy invited her to come along, she decided to, even though she wasn't certain anymore if she  _should_  be going, given the fact that she was possibly, sort of, almost dating the Slytherin team captain. But it was like Tonks always said: she was really only going for the hot chocolate, and the company.

Tonks was there, as usual. Today, her hair was in a long blonde braid she had pulled to the side; it was quite muted for her, actually, but she did have large aqua-coloured hoop earrings on to compensate.

"Do you ever do the same hair twice?" Calista wondered.

"Not in the same month," Tonks grinned. "Believe it or not, it's still pretty easy to run out of ideas, though. So - haven't seen you at the last couple of practises. Been too busy with schoolwork, or have you decided to disown me, after all?"

"Neither," Calista said, settling into the bleachers beside the older girl. "I wasn't sure… I mean, I feel a bit like a traitor, being here  _now_."

"Yeah, well, tell Flint to supply hot chocolate at  _their_  practises, and then he has the right to complain. Hell, if he does that,  _I'll_  show up."

"He hasn't, yet," Calista said, "Complained, I mean. I just… I dunno." She shrugged. "So what happened over the summer?" she wondered, "With Charlie and that girl, Jane? Your friends were going to tell you something, on the train."

"Oh," Tonks said, " _That_. I guess there was a bit of awkwardness over the summer, when Jane went to visit Charlie at the Burrow - that's his family's home - Seems Charlie's brother Bill was there, you know, the one that was Head Boy a couple of years ago?"

Calista nodded. "I remember him - I mean, I didn't  _know_  him, but I remember him being Head Boy, obviously."

"Yeah - well, turns out he and Jane had snogged a couple of times his final year, in empty classrooms and such, and somehow that came out."

"So… did Charlie break up with her, then?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Nah, he didn't, much to my dismay, believe me. I mean, it was a while ago, before she was with Charlie, and all. One thing's for sure, though - that Jane definitely has a type."

"Wonder if she'll try and go for Percy next," Calista said.

Tonks snorted, glancing down the row at Percy, who had a textbook open on his lap. "She'd have better luck if she were a textbook, wouldn't she? Seems to be the only thing he wants to stick his face in -"

"Come on," Calista said, biting back a laugh. "That's not really very nice…"

"Yeah… I s'pose it isn't. Hey… so I heard this rumor…"

"Yeah? About what?"

"You," Tonks said, "Actually, it's a couple of rumors. I heard that your dad caught you and Marcus snogging in the Owlery, and that you hit that Avril girl in the face and gave her a black eye."

"Oh, yeah… Erm… both of those are true."

"Really?" Tonks sounded interested. "I never heard how the two rumors connected - do they?"

"Well, Olivia was teasing me about Marcus, that's what the last straw was - but honestly, she's been a horrible cow to me for ages. I guess I should feel bad, but -"

"I wouldn't-"

"-I don't."

Calista and Tonks grinned at each other.

"Yeah," Tonks said, after a few seconds. "That girl's got a bit of a reputation for being… well, a horrible cow. Had a first year from my house in tears just a fortnight ago, a Muggle-born girl, called her something awful…"

"I'm sure I can guess what it was," Calista said dryly, "It's her favourite word."

"What a bitch," Tonks said, "Sounds like it was about time someone thumped her, then. Did you get ticked off for it?"

"I got a detention, sorting files for Professor Thatch. It wasn't too bad."

"So," Tonks said, with a sly little grin, "Worth it, then?"

"Oh, yeah," Calista agreed. "Definitely."

"So what happened with Flint and your dad? Everything all right now?"

"Well… nearly, I guess," Calista said, "He still hasn't said I'm allowed to… you know, to have a boyfriend, or anything, and I'm not supposed to be alone with Marcus anymore, but… I mean, at least he's calmed down quite a bit from when he  _first_  found out, I thought he was going to murder both of us."

Tonks winced. "Better you than me. Is he… is he real strict, then? I can't imagine having Snape for a father, it sounds like a nightmare."

"He's not a nightmare - most of the time. I mean, he can be a bit strict with some things, yeah, but then others not so much. There's the Marcus thing… he's real strict about that, and about hexing people, he doesn't want me doing that - but I didn't get in trouble with him for punching Olivia, and… well, I can get away with saying things to him that  _no one_  else ever could."

"Oh, yeah?" Tonks asked, grinning. "Like what?"

"I dunno… I mean, I tell him to 'sod off' all the time. Can you imagine someone saying that in class with him?"

"Not without being poisoned…"

"Yeah," Calista said, "Stuff like that. I mean… we argue kind of a lot, and it's… honestly, it's a bit fun sometimes, like a contest to see who can finish with the best line."

Tonks' eyes were wide. "Yeah, I can't imagine anyone else getting away with that."

"Well, that's when he's only just irritated. If he's doing that thing where his eyes flash and he looks like he's just swallowed a snake, even  _I_  know to shut it right quick."

Tonks chuckled. "Yeah, that's a pretty good description, actually. Still, I can't imagine… I mean, my mum and dad are the greatest, they're not strict about much of anything - unless it's dangerous, I s'pose. But they wouldn't care if I was snogging someone in the Owlery."

"Really?"

"Yeah - I mean, they trust me not to do anything stupid, mostly. And they know I won't take a guy acting like a prat… a lesson Rich Thimble just learned the hard way, by the way."

"Who's he?"

"Hufflepuff guy in my year. I was sort of seeing him, and then he asked me if I could make my - y'know," and she gestured to her chest, "Any bigger…"

"Eugh, what a creep," Calista said, "What did you do?"

She grinned. "Well, I threw my butterbeer in his face, obviously. And then I yelled for the whole pub to hear that if I was gonna be making any part of anyone's anatomy bigger, it wouldn't be  _mine_."

Calista's cheeks flushed with colour. "Eugh!" she said again, "Tonks, that's gross."

Tonks grinned, triumphantly. "Sorry," she said, but she didn't sound it.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista had reached something of a dead-end with her research into the Locking Charm's ancient origins; even though though she had found a rune that could have been part of an early ritual, she had yet to find anything at all about some version of a locking spell that had been used before wands were invented.

She supposed she might be looking for the wrong thing; after all, locksmithing had not really existed prior to the advent of magic wands, so perhaps the ritual she was looking for would be described in some other way - to guard one's possessions, or something - but at any rate, she wasn't having much luck.

Flitwick's book pointed her in a much more useful and interesting direction, however. In it, she had found a passing reference to an old Chinese ritual that had allowed the user to summon a controlled fire. She felt a hum of excitement as she read the passage that quickly fizzled to a dissatisfied sort of disappointment when she realised there were no real details on how the ritual had worked, or whether it had ever been adapted to other uses.

Controlled fire, though... _That_  was something that, if she could manage, might actually prove useful if she ever had to face Bellatrix without her wand. She flipped to the reference index in the back of the book, to see if she could find any source materials listed that might contain more information. There were a few other books listed, history books, that concerned ancient rituals and pre-wand magic, but nothing that seemed as though it would necessarily deal specifically with the controlled-flame ritual.

Calista supposed she could go to the library, perhaps even get a pass from Flitwick to browse the Restricted section… but there was an even easier source for her to obtain books, and he might even be able to recommend specific titles, if she told him what she wanted it for.

She checked the time: eight o'clock. Still an hour before students were required to be in their common rooms for the evening. She marked her page with a spare bit of parchment, and the page in the index as well that listed related books, tucked it under her arm, and decided to go visit her father.

He seemed pleased to see her, when she found him in his study, reading what appeared to be some sort of scholarly article. He set it aside when she entered, and gestured to the thick book under her arm.

"That doesn't look like one of your textbooks," he observed, "Something you're researching, or are you reading it for pleasure?"

"Aren't those the same thing?" she asked, with a sly little smile.

"Ah," he said, "I suppose they often are, for you and I."

"It is research, though," she said, "Optional research. Another essay I'm working on for Professor Flitwick."

"I should have guessed," Severus mused, as Calista balanced the book on one forearm, finding her page with the other hand.

"I'm still researching pre-wand magic, rituals and stuff like that, and I came across this passage here… it's about an old Chinese practise, to summon a controlled flame… I want to find out more about it, but this book doesn't go into much detail -"

"Did you check the list of source references?"

"Of course I did," Calista said, flipping to that marked page; she nearly dropped the book because of the sudden weight differential, but recovered, cradling it protectively as a reflex. If she'd seen her father's face then, she might have noticed a reflective, affectionate sort of smirk on it. "There are a few books about ancient rituals listed, but none of them sounds like it covers this ritual  _specifically_."

"Well, what are the books?"

" _An Ancient History of Runic Magicks_. Bujold."

"Not worth your time, his writings are quite broad and strictly historical in nature."

"See, this is why I came to you instead of the library," Calista said, "It would have taken me at least ten or fifteen minutes to figure that out on my own."

"What else have you got?"

" _Auld Magicks of Ancient Peoples_ , Lovenworth. And  _Salt and Stone: Rituals of the Earth_ , Olafsson."

"You might find the Lovenworth one interesting, but I doubt it will contain what you're looking for. Not much in the Olafsson one either, most likely. Neither of them deals with offensive magic, which is what I presume you're looking for?"

She nodded. "Well, ideally, yes."

"The Lovenworth is almost certainly in the Hogwarts library," Severus told her, "I'm not quite sure about the other one, but if it's not there, and you really want to read it, I imagine you could find it for purchase easily enough."

"Yeah, I'll probably get the one from the library, then," Calista said, "I was hoping to find something more like… like an encyclopaedia of flame spells, or perhaps a book on ancient elemental magic - not just earth, but fire too. Can you think of anything like that?"

Severus considered, and then he regarded her in a measuring sort of way, as if judging whether or not to tell her something.

"You do know of something that would be helpful," Calista guessed, "But you're not sure if you should give it to me."

"Very astute of you," Severus commented dryly. "Yes, there is a particular volume that I think would have what you're looking for…"

"But?"

"It contains quite a few spells that you should not attempt to cast, yet - you haven't got the control."

"I'm not going to try to cast them yet," she said, "I only want the  _theory_  behind them, for now."

He hesitated. Then he stood, and beckoned for her to follow him down to his basement workroom. There were, she knew, several more shelves full of books down there, but she was not allowed down there by herself, so she had never really examined them in as great detail as she might have liked.

He seemed to know right what he was looking for; he pulled a slim red volume of the shelf, and held it up, just shy of handing it to her.

"Listen to me carefully, Calista," he said, sternly. "The incantation and instructions for the Fiendfyre Curse are in this book - I know you're eager to learn it, but you don't yet have the required control to cast it, and you must promise me that you won't attempt it."

"I won't," Calista said, "Not until you say I can, I mean."

They had been working their way gradually through hexes and curses - far too gradually for Calista's liking - and he had told her recently that they were still a far way off from her being ready to learn that particular spell.

"I'm quite serious," he reiterated, and it was all she could do not to roll her eyes. She  _knew_  that. "If not properly controlled, the Fiendfyre Curse is powerful enough to level a village the size of Hogsmeade."

" _Dad_ ," she said, "I  _know_ , I won't try to cast it. I never cast spells you've told me not to, and you know when the last time I hexed someone was, it was ages ago and it was a stupid nothing curse anyway."

He exhaled, and then handed the book to her. "I know, Calista," he said, surprising her. "I know you are generally responsible with magic, but you must know why I have to reassure myself that you won't start indiscriminately casting Dark magic."

"Because I brewed that potion," she said, balancing this smaller volume on top of the book Flitwick had lent her, "And because you'd get in trouble for teaching me all these spells, I know."

"Those are concerns of mine," Severus admitted, "But my principal concern lies in the fact that you're a very  _effective_  caster of such spells."

"What? I am?" she shifted the weight of the books to one arm.

"Oh, undoubtedly - surely this is not news to you?"

"Well, sort of, yeah. I just… guess I figured I was doing about average with them."

"Ah, well, you figured wrong, then. Your curses have quite a bit of power behind them."

She glowed, unable to keep from smiling with a good bit of self-satisfaction while she considered this.

"Well, most of the ones we've been practising are Charms, right? Everyone keeps telling me my Freezing Charm is a lot stronger than normal… maybe that's why?"

"I'm certain that's a factor," Severus said, "But… the fact is, Calista, that strong negative memories, those concerning pain, and fear, and anger… the more of those that one has, the stronger their curses tend to be. There is no denying that you possess more than your fair share of those."

As he finished speaking, it was like she was hit with a tidal wave; her eyes went wide, and she felt a curious sort of rushing in her head. She felt, suddenly, a bit dizzy. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake her, and she turned, setting her books carefully on the end of his work table.

Something of what she was feeling must have showed on her face, because Severus was hovering by her side in an instant, his hands coming to her shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

"What if she did everything on purpose, to make me stronger at Dark magic?"

It was an awful question, and it wrenched its way out of her with an agony that was so palpable it was very nearly physical.

Severus lifted one of his hands to her face, and brushed aside a strand of her hair that was near her eyes with surprising gentleness; then he looked directly into her eyes, dark like his own, with a quiet sort of intensity.

"If that was indeed what she hoped to accomplish," Severus said, quietly. "Then make her regret it, should you ever meet again."

She was silent for a moment, and then she nodded, and some of the determination came back into her features. Severus let his hand fall from her shoulder.

"You're strong," he told her, and they both knew he wasn't only talking about magic, anymore. "And you'll only keep getting stronger."

She allowed a very small smile, and then she hugged him, because it had been precisely the right thing for him to say.

"And taller," Severus observed, with a wry, sad sort of smile in his voice, even as his arms came around her. "I'm not sure if I'm quite pleased about  _that_."

"You're still welcome to read cat books to me," she said, pulling back to grin slyly at him. "I'll even try and trick you into eating a vomit-flavoured candy, if you want."

Severus released her. "If that will keep you from being interested in boys, perhaps it's worth the trade-off."

"But I'm not interested in  _boys_ ," Calista said, "I'm interested in  _Marcus_." She blushed, but supposed that the dim light in his workroom might not be enough for him to see it by. "It's not the same thing at all."

"Perhaps to you it isn't," Severus said, almost petulantly, "But it is for me."

"You know," Calista said, carefully. "Just because… just because I want to go out with Marcus… it doesn't mean that I wouldn't still need you."

"Of course it doesn't," Severus said quickly, suddenly prickly. "You're still a child."

"Well, I think that's a point ripe for debate," she retorted, but then softened again almost immediately. "But it doesn't matter; you're my  _dad_ , I'm always going to need you."

"We'll see if you still say that when you're twenty-two," he muttered, but secretly, he hoped she would.

She smirked. "I'll bet you that I will; loser has to eat a vomit-flavoured bean."

He raised an eyebrow. "Very well," he said, "I hope you aren't labouring under the delusion that I won't hold you to it, because I will."

"Good," she said, "Same goes for you."

They were both quiet for a minute, and then Calista affected a sly smile.

"So…" she said, "Can I go in the forest, yet?"

"As a matter of fact," Severus said, "Yes, you can. Next month, I need to gather some fluxweed for my sixth year class. I'll take you with me, if you wish."

"At the full moon, or the waning?"

"Full."

"Polyjuice Potion, then," she guessed, and he nodded.

"Can I… can I make it, too?"

"Perhaps. We shall see."

She grinned. "So, a trip to the forest, and a new potion to make. It's going to be a good month, for me - even better if you change your mind about Marcus…"

"Don't push your luck; and I said  _perhaps_ , about the potion."

"Perhaps always means 'yes'," she said slyly, "Eventually."

"We'll see about that," he groused, with no real malice.

"That means 'yes', too."

"Oh, does it? Tell me, what does 'you're a miserable brat' mean?"

"It means you love me."

" _Perhaps_ ," Severus said, but he was smiling, now, just a bit.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The final Saturday before Christmas break was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Calista managed to convince her father to skip their Occlumency lesson, so she'd have time to finish her shopping.

It was snowing, and since there were no more classes until after the holiday, the students were in a jovial mood; the Three Broomsticks was decorated with garlands and witchfire lights, and even most of the professors were there, sitting at the long bar and drinking mugs full of honeyed mead, or elvish wine.

After enjoying a round of butterbeers, Calista, Penny, Percy, and Amelia decided to walk down the High Street, visiting the shops. Calista had already purchased for most of her friends, but she wanted to get some sweets for Draco, and she still hadn't thought what she could give to Marcus, though she felt she ought to give him something.

She thought perhaps she should get him something from the Quidditch shop, but she didn't know what he needed; she supposed she could have asked Oliver Wood, but if he knew it was for the rival team's captain, he might give her bad advice on purpose. Besides, even Percy and Oliver had been drifting apart; even though he and Calista were no longer enemies, they were certainly not close friends.

Penny and Percy were talking about their Arithmancy homework, but Calista and Amelia had agreed to put it off until they came back from holiday, and Calista was trying to enlist Amelia's help in finding a gift for Marcus.

"Give him some tongue," Amelia suggested, which Calista did not find at all helpful.

"You're not funny," Calista said, blushing furiously.

"I'm not joking," Amelia countered.

And then, suddenly, there he was. Marcus was walking towards them, with Derek Logan. He grinned at Calista, and she grinned back, reflexively.

"I'll catch up with you later," Derek said, uneasily; he cast a look at Calista that was somewhat wary, and not quite friendly.

"What's his problem?" she asked Marcus, when Derek was out of earshot.

Marcus shrugged. "I think it's something to do with you thumping Olivia."

"I thought he was after Endria?"

"Well, he was, but she told him to sod off. Anyway, who cares? What're you up to?"

"Shopping," Calista said, "For Christmas - I'm nearly done. I just have to get something for my cousin. Oh, and I was going to get dungbombs, for Eva Selwyn."

"What's she want 'em for?" Marcus wondered, falling into pace beside her. Percy glanced back at them, and frowned, slightly. Calista hoped Marcus wouldn't notice.

"Haven't got a clue," Calista said, "I told her I wouldn't ask."

The volume of Percy and Penny's debate rose. Penny turned back to Amelia, appealing to her.

"The variable vector charts," she said, "You had to reach the  _third_  order of difference to find the pattern for the next set, right? Percy says you can find it in the second order, but I tried to tell him, that's only up to a  _point_ , and then the pattern shifts, by seven-sixteenths of a degree…"

"I dunno, I haven't started it yet," Amelia said.

"What? But it's due the Thursday we get back, and it's a  _lot_  of work - tell her, Calista."

"Ehm, I actually haven't started it yet, either. We were going to do it together -"

"You can't  _still_  be doing that, neither of you will properly learn the material -"

"Thanks, Professor Clearwater," Calista interrupted, sarcastically. Marcus chuckled, and Percy glared at both of them.

"Honestly, Calista, she's trying to  _help_  you. And  _he_ probably doesn't even know what we're talking about, he's not even in our class -"

"Watch it, Perce," Amelia warned, but Marcus was already scowling at Percy.

"I don't have to know what you're talking about to know you're a smarmy know-it-all," Marcus sneered. "Both of you."

"Your entirely unsolicited opinion has been noted," Percy said snappishly, "Oh, actually, my apologies, it's been  _disregarded_."

Calista hid a snort. "You sound like me, Perce."

"I don't know what you said," Marcus growled, "But I don't like it."

Amelia and Penny both rolled their eyes.

"It's nearly Christmas," Penny appealed, "Can't we all agree to get along?"

" _We_  were getting along just fine," Percy said stiffly, "Until someone invited a Slytherin -"

"Hey!" Calista and Marcus said, in unison.

"I didn't mean  _you_ , Calista," Percy said quickly, "I forget that's what you are, sometimes…"

"That's - I'm still annoyed with you!" Calista said, "There's nothing  _wrong_  with being in Slytherin, and in case you haven't noticed, even if  _you_  don't like him for whatever stupid reason,  _I_  happen to like Marcus very much, so if you'd just stop being a bloody prat to him -"

"He started it!" Percy protested.

Marcus had been glowering dangerously at Percy, but he backed off a bit after Calista's little speech, and slipped his arm around her waist, even though they weren't technically supposed to be dating just now, not until Severus relented.

"Honestly," Penny said, "You sound like children, all three of you. Now, can we enter the bookstore like a  _civilised_  group, or should Amelia and I go in without you all?"

"Penny," Percy said, pained, "It's not my fault, surely you can see -"

"Bookstore  _again_ , Penny?" Amelia asked, "I thought we were going to Dervish and Banges."

"Yeah, I don't want to go to the bookstore, either," Marcus said quickly.

Percy smirked. "Of course you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the growl was back, deep in Marcus' throat.

Calista rolled her eyes. "Okay, obviously this isn't going to work. You lot go in without us, I'm going to take off for a bit with Marcus."

Even when they had broken off from the rest of Calista's friends, Marcus' mood didn't improve much, at first.

"Your Arithmancy friends are boring… and I don't know about that Weasley," he said, ominously.

"He's all right, once you get to know him," Calista said, "Penny's pretty good about keeping him in line, most of the time."

"I think he fancies you."

"Trust me," Calista said, "He doesn't."

"I dunno… he's always trying to sound so bloody clever…"

"He  _always_  sounds like that, it's nothing to do with me, believe me."

"But you're always together…"

Calista rolled her eyes. "Come off it, I'm always with Amelia, too. Think she fancies me as well, do you?"

"Well, no…"

"Neither does Percy," she said firmly, because she knew by now how he felt about Penny, "And even if he ever did, it wouldn't matter, because I don't fancy  _him_ , we're friends, is all."

"You… you definitely don't fancy him?" Marcus asked, as the snow intensified around them, "Not even a bit?"

"Not at all," Calista said, with finality, and Marcus relaxed. "The  _only_  person I think of in that way is you."

"So…" Marcus said, pulling her close and smiling slyly down at her, "Can we go kiss behind the Shrieking Shack, then?"

Calista felt her heart racing, in the familiar, exciting pattern it always seemed to, when she thought of kissing Marcus. But she shook her head, with effort.

"I can't," she said, "Not until my dad says it's all right… but he'll come around. I think."

There was more than a measure of doubt in her tone, and Marcus must have picked up on it, because he sighed, heavily.

"You're real close with him, huh?"

"Well, yeah," Calista said, "Aren't you close with your dad?"

"I guess," Marcus said, "But if he told me I couldn't kiss you… well, I still would."

"Remember how that worked out for us, before?"

"Yeah," Marcus muttered. "I guess."

He sighed.

"You have to understand," Calista said quietly, looking up at him. "It's not just… it's not just that he's my dad, and I'm supposed to listen to him. It's… he's really done a lot for me," she explained, "And I can't… I couldn't bear it if he didn't trust me anymore, after everything."

"Okay," Marcus said, unhappily. "I'll wait some more."

"There is something we could do… my aunt, Narcissa… she suggested that my Uncle Lucius invite you and your parents over for dinner, during the holiday break. She… she seemed to think that might make it easier to convince my dad that you're all right."

"Yeah? You think that would work? My parents want to meet you, anyway."

"That's the part that makes me nervous about the whole plan," Calista admitted. "What if… what if they don't like me?"

"'Course they'll like you," Marcus said easily, but she wondered nervously how well she would take it if they didn't, if they reacted to her the same way that Severus had reacted to Marcus, initially.

"I don't know," she said, hesitating. "I'm afraid they might not… I mean, don't they expect you to want to date a -"

She'd been about to say  _pretty girl_ , but she changed her mind at the last second; there was no sense in reminding him that she wasn't really one. Besides, she thought that saying something like that would make her sound insecure and annoying, and that definitely wasn't who she wanted to be.

"Quidditch player, or something?" she finished, lamely.

For some reason, Marcus grinned, and shook his head. "No," he said, "They know what to expect. I told them exactly what you're like."

She frowned; she wasn't certain if that was a good thing, or not.

"So… so should I tell my aunt yes, then?"

"It can't hurt," Marcus said, reasonably. "Besides -"

She never got to hear the rest of his sentence, because a snowball hit him in the side of the face.

"Think fast, Flint!" someone howled, and Calista looked over to see the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team; it was Ben Ivans that had thrown it, and a couple of the other boys were already balling up snow in their fists.

"You'll pay for that," Marcus said, grinning, and he let go of Calista to reach down and scoop up two handfuls of snow; he hurled them, one after the other at Ivans;the first one hit him in the forehead, but he ducked from the second one, and threw another one of his own, hitting Marcus in the chest.

After that, there was no avoiding a snowball fight of epic proportions; it was a free-for-all, with no semblance of teams or a goal, except for pelting each other with as much of the heavy, wet snow as they could manage.

Calista chuckled, watching them from a safe distance - or so she thought, until she felt something cold and heavy hit her arm.

"You're not safe just 'cause you're a girl!" Terence Higgs hollered, pelting her with another one.

Well, that settled that. Calista leaned down, narrowly avoiding being hit with another snowball, and packed a handful of snow. She hurled it at Terence; she missed the first time, but the second time she hit him by the ear, and the third time - well, by the time she had made a third snowball, it didn't matter who was hitting whom anymore, all of them were cold, soaked, and grinning ear-to-ear.

"See?" Marcus yelled to her, ducking another onslaught, "Isn't this way more fun than Arithmancy homework?"

"Maybe," she said, taking a snowball to the face; she rounded on Ivans, who had thrown it, and returned the favour.

"Damn it, Snapelet," Ivans said, laughing and shaking the snow out of his hair and eyes, "You've got an arm, for a little thing."

" _How does everyone find out about that name_?" she howled, hurling another snowball.


	7. Chapter 7

Calista had done more Christmas shopping that year than any year before; she remembered Marcus saying that she had a lot of friends, and she hadn't quite thought it was true, until she had to buy a gift for each of them. She bought a hair ornament for Sofia again, and a bag of dungbombs for Eva.

She got Percy another history book, and Penny a set of coloured quills for note-taking, because she was always using hers up. She got a book of jinxes for Amelia, not the sort she was learning from her father now, but more in line with the milder ones they'd started with.

She bought a pair of earrings for Tonks that were composed of a string of four or five stars that changed colours randomly; she enclosed a note that said she thought it'd go with any of Tonks' hair colours.

She had even gotten a Chocolate Frog for each of the first-year girls that Eva and Sofia had more or less adopted, and she had by extension.

She got Emily something this year, too, because she'd felt bad for not doing so last year, even though Emily had not quite separated herself from Olivia's clique. She'd compromised by getting her a nice, sturdy bookmark that was made of metal and had an 'E' engraved on it.

She sent a letter to Kim, telling her that she was learning some curses - and, in keeping with hre promise to her father, she didn't specify which ones - and that she'd punched Olivia in the face. She'd drawn a little sketch in the corner, of Kim riding her broomstick, ponytail trailing behind her, and a fierce expression on her face.

In the end, she  _had_  broken down and asked Oliver Wood what she should get for someone that liked Quidditch; she didn't say  _who_  it was for, but she imagined it wasn't very difficult for him to guess. He'd suggested a few things, and Calista had bought the first thing he'd named that she saw for sale, a speed gauge that clipped onto the handle of a broomstick. She hoped he liked it - on the wrapping, she'd drawn a little sketch of him flying, just like the one she made for Kim.

When she woke up on Christmas morning, she was shocked to discover that she had a larger pile of presents at the foot of her bed than anyone else in the dormitory room; more, even, than Olivia, whose mother always sent her mounds of packages with expensive-looking wrappings. This year, there were only a few such packages for Olivia, so perhaps her mother was still cross with her.

She had gotten presents from everyone that she'd given to, and a few more besides; she had a Charms book from Penny and a Transfiguration book from Percy. Amelia had gotten her precisely the same book of jinxes she'd gotten  _her_ ; that made her laugh, especially when she opened the front jacket, and read the handwritten note inside:

_Calista -_

_This book looks great, almost kept it for myself. Maybe we can share it?_

_\- Amelia_

She had a pretty scarf from Sofia, a bag of Every Flavour beans and a quill that wrote in ink that had to be heated up to be viewed from Eva, and an assortment of small gifts from the first-year girls; hair ribbons, Sugar Quills, a Chocolate Frog in return. From Emily, she'd gotten a quill that wrote in colour-changing ink.

In addition to her packages, she had several notes, too. She opened the first one; it was from Marcus.

_Calista -_

_I have something for you but it's better in person so I'll wait until I come over to your family's house for dinner._

_\- MF_

She hoped it wasn't anything embarrassing; but she didn't  _think_  he'd do that, would he? Perhaps it was another flying lesson… she supposed she wouldn't mind that.

The next note was from Tonks.

_Hey Calista,_

_Don't ask me how I found out about this, and don't tell anyone I'm the one that told you, but if you go up to the seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, just walk back and forth a few times and think about needing a room where you can be alone without being found out, and one should appear. Happy snogging!_

_Love, Tonks_

_PS - I hope you don't mind, but I've explained about us being cousins to my mum and she wants you to come for a visit sometime._

_PPS - Do me a favour and get rid of this after you read it, last thing I need's another detention when I've got my N.E.W.T.s coming up._

She slipped it into her pocket, trying not to grin or blush; she'd set it aflame later, when she was outside… this room, though. She wasn't going to break her word to her father, but as soon as he did relent, she supposed it couldn't hurt to invite Marcus for a stroll on the seventh floor… it certainly sounded better than being surrounded by rustling, hooting, crapping owls.

There were two other notes, too, both in unfamiliar handwriting. Both of the were signed only with initials, and were quite short.

_Dear Calista,_

_Thanks for standing up to Olivia Avril. I know you didn't do it for me, but it helped me just the same. She said some really nasty things to me and she's been much quieter since you taught her a lesson._

_-K.P._

_Hi Calista,_

_I thought Slytherins were all bad but I guess maybe you're not. I was afraid to write you but my friend told me your best friend is Muggle-born like me, so maybe you don't hate us all. I hope you're not as scary as your dad is. I just wanted to say, a lot of us that were there that day, in the corridor, we don't think you should have gotten detention, we think you should have gotten an award._

_\- LSM_

She felt a bit strange reading both of the notes, like she was being praised for something she didn't deserve. She hadn't stood up to Olivia for anyone but herself, and yet this wasn't the first time that someone else had been happy she'd done it.

All the time that she'd been dealing with Olivia's particular brand of bullying, she had thought that she was the only recipient, or at least the primary recipient; but what if neither of those things were true, after all?

If it was true, if things were the way they sounded… if Olivia was bullying a lot of different students, and somehow getting away with it - was Calista really the first person to stand up to her?

"Hey, uhm."

Calista looked up from the nearly-anonymous note to see Emily holding up the bookmark from Calista with a small, tentative smile.

"Thanks."

"Oh - yeah, you too."

There was a moment, where they briefly shared a smile, and then Olivia's voice cut across the room.

"Open mine now, Emily," she insisted.

Emily reached obediently for a small, gold-wrapped package; from within it, she withdrew a delicate, glittering gold chain, with a pendant on it. Portia had an identical package, and she tore hers open, examining the pendant.

Emily began shaking her head, wide-eyed. "Olivia, I can't - this is too expensive, I can't accept it."

"It was very expensive," Olivia agreed, "But you can accept it - in fact, you  _must_ , I insist. I can't return it, you know - look at the engraving, on the pendant."

"P. O. E.," Portia said, sniffling and rubbing her hand across her nose. "What does that mean?"

"It's our initials, silly, because we're all best friends," Olivia said, "The O is bigger and in the center, of course, because you two became friends because of me-"

"Is that even true?" Calista interjected, " _I_  think it might have had something to do with the fact that you all share a bedroom."

Portia sniffed, and Olivia leveled a cold glare at Calista. "No one asked for your opinion, Snapelet."

Calista snorted. "Fine, sorry,  _Gamplet_."

Olivia's cheeks turned pink. "That's  _not_  my name."

Calista shrugged, and crossed over to her wardrobe, gathering an outfit and her robes. She had packed the previous night for the Malfoys', so as soon as she was dressed, she could meet her father and depart. For once, ever since she'd punched Olivia in front of a lot of other students, she felt like  _she_  had the upper hand, and not Olivia. She didn't want to be like Olivia, but that didn't mean she wouldn't remind Olivia, every once in awhile, that Calista wasn't going to just put up with being messed with again.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista carried her schoolbag to her father's office, stuffed with clothes instead of books. The gifts she had for Draco were small and fit into her bag easily, and even though her father's gift was physically a very small item, it was large enough to her that she wanted to give it to him in private, before they left for the holiday.

In her other hand, she had Yellow's crate, complete with an unhappy, yowling cat inside. When she met her father in his quarters, he cast a sulky sort of frown at the crate.

"Must you bring that wretched little beast with you?"

She rolled her eyes. "There's going to be nobody here to feed him, of course I have to."

Severus sighed, and looked her over, then. She had her schoolbag on her shoulder, and a letter of some sort in her hand.

"Where's your trunk?"

"I decided not to bother with all that, I fit everything I need in my bag - Draco's gifts are small, you know, so…"

He nodded. "So," he said, "I understand that there is to be some sort of dinner gathering, later in the week, with Mr. Flint and his parents."

He didn't sound precisely pleased, but he didn't sound terribly angry, either. Calista replied cautiously.

"Yeah… it was Aunt Narcissa's idea, I guess Uncle Lucius sort of knows his dad anyway… I asked Marcus what he thought, and he said it sounded okay. I guess his parents want to meet  _me_ , which I'm not all that excited about, but…" she shrugged.

"No one asked me what  _I_  thought," he pointed out.

"Dad, everyone already knows what you think, about everything: You don't like it."

He frowned. "I find many things enjoyable; having an event requiring my attendance planned without being consulted in advance is simply not one of them."

"Okay, well, I'll never try to throw a surprise party for you, then."

"That's probably wise."

Calista adjusted the weight of her bag on her shoulder, and then exhaled, holding the letter out to her father suddenly.

"Here," she said, "It's… it's your Christmas present. But don't read it now, I'll probably die of embarrassment if you do -"

"Ah, now how can I wait?"

"- and  _definitely_ don't read it when anyone else is around."

"Is that all, or are you going to give me further instructions?"

She made a sour face. "Don't make me take it back."

"So there  _are_  further instructions, then."

She glared at him, and it was so reminiscent of the glare he typically used to silence a classroom, that he couldn't help but quirk his mouth into a small, fond sort of smile.

"Such a polite, decorous child," he commented, sarcastically, but there was no malice behind it.

She snorted. "You don't like  _those_ , either."

"I wouldn't know," Severus said wryly, "I've never met one."

"Well, and I've never met a unicorn," she reminded him, "Bring me to see one, and maybe I'll  _become_  a polite, decorous person.  _Not_  a child, though."

"As you've said, that is a point ripe for debate. Now, are you ready to leave?"

She nodded, and he levitated his own travelling bag, as they set off towards the castle gates.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Once again, Calista received more clothes than she could possibly need for Christmas, and a very well-made cloak with a hood trimmed with soft white puffskein fur.

Narcissa had also given her a few different makeup products - pink lipstick, a light pink powder that she supposed was blush, and assorted other colours of powder, greens and blues and ivories, which she thought must be meant for her eyelids, though she wasn't sure. There was some other stuff she didn't even  _know_  about, what it was called or how to apply it. She thanked her aunt, but thought privately that this stuff would just sit, unused, in the back of her wardrobe next to the bottle of perfume she'd gotten last year and hadn't even opened.

She received another gift from her aunt and uncle that she vowed to leave unopened: her own copy of the book her uncle had told her to read over the summer,  _Pureblood Wizarding Families of Great Britain_.

She gave Draco sweets again, and she had asked her father to bring proper ingredients for the chocolate-vegetables potion, but it turned out Draco was no longer interested in that potion; he had asked her instead if they could make some sort of poison, which, of course, they could not.

"You can't make poison in a plastic cauldron," she'd said, when he pressed for a reason besides, ' _we'll get in huge trouble'_.

"Why not?" he had asked.

"Because," and she'd scrambled for a reason, "Because it might melt the cauldron, and because it's just  _lame_ , okay? No one does that. You always make poison in pewter cauldron, or maybe a copper one."

"Well, as soon as I get my pewter cauldron, then, for school next year, I'm going to make a poison."

"Great," Calista had said, "I'm sure you will."

"You do know I'm going to Hogwarts next year, yes?"

She recalled trying not to roll her eyes, and failing. He had only mentioned that fact literally  _hundreds_  of times, during their visit, and every time, he said it imperiously, as if Hogwarts was some place she didn't already go.

He did seem pleased with the gifts she had given him, though, so that was good. He got thoroughly spoiled by his parents again, and Severus had given him the ingredients kits for a couple more potions he could make in his KidKauldron, perhaps wanting him to get a good last bit of use out of it before the coming summer, when he would finally get a real cauldron.

Severus had given Calista several new books, another book of hexes and curses, and a few that looked as though they would be interesting and useful for her Charms essays. He gave her a Potions book, too, and when Calista flipped through it, she couldn't suppress a sly little smile at the realisation that it contained the instructions for making Polyjuice Potion.

She didn't know if her father had opened his present; she hoped he would wait until they were back at Hogwarts, preferably not on a day that she would have to see him. It had not been an easy letter for her to write, and four times she'd burned it and had to force herself to start over.

She had been tempted to give him something else, a book or even another drawing, because somehow she found it easier to pour her feelings into a picture than into actual words. But then, in light of everything that had happened, especially the fact that she had lied to him for months, she felt that she owed him the truth; not only the truth he had asked for, regarding Marcus and her secrecy, but the larger truth, everything.

There were a few things, lately: her deception, certainly; the fact that he was not automatically alerted to her fear anymore, not unless she deliberately called out to him; the fact that she had friends, other confidantes. Calista knew that her father was beginning to feel as though she didn't need him as much, though she didn't think he wanted her to realise that was how he felt. So she had done something that felt counter-instinctual to her, and she'd written him the truth; and if she hated feeling vulnerable, and weak, and open, hated letting  _anyone_  see those qualities in her, she hated even more the idea that her father might think she didn't  _need_  him, because she understood him well enough to know that the idea hurt him deeply.

On Christmas night, she had the dream with the plant, the aconite, again. Like before, she hurled the plant out of one of the windows in the round room at the top of the house that all of her nightmares seemed to take place in, lately. Again, the window shattered. This time, Calista walked over to it, and tried to repair it. She imagined a replacement pane of glass, but nothing happened; a chill breeze continued to blow through the room, causing her to shiver and grit her teeth. She took her cloak off, and held it to the window instead, like she had done to the door before. The wind tapered off some, but the room was still cold. Calista forced herself to wake up.

She was cold, and the room that sprung up around her in the near-black of night when she opened her eyes was not her dormitory room, or her old room in her father's quarters.

There was a panicked second where she thought - the sumptuous fabrics of the linens, the patterned canopy above the bed, the hulking shape of the chandelier above her - she was in a house she had all but forgotten about, a house that set her heart racing, and turned her breath shallow in her chest.

 _Is she coming?_  - Calista sat bolt upright in the bed, and then, slowly, details filtered into her brain. The wardrobe, the chairs, the angle of the weak moonlight that slipped around the edges of the heavy drapes; these things were part of her guest room at the Malfoys', not part of… not part of…

And now that the memory of that  _other_  room had been triggered, Calista found that she could picture it clearly. A large canopied bed, quite similar to the one she sat up in now, a small, round window high up the wall. She was not certain if the window had really been all that high, or if she had only been exceptionally small. The walls had been papered in a dark colour; navy, perhaps. Next to the bed, there had been an armchair larger and heavier than either of the ones in this room.

She recalled, all at once, the image of her mother sitting in that armchair next to the bed in that old room, wild curls falling loose about her face, a heavy book open on her lap. She was speaking, her voice powerful even though it was soft. ' _Abbot_ ,' she had said, ' _Avery, Black - that's us, Daughter, you and I. Bulstrode, Burke, and Carrow… Are you listening to me, child? Pay attention, girl, or I shall_ make _you… Crouch, Fawley, and Flint - listen to Mama! You're not listening!'_  Calista could remember being startled, as the cover of the volume slammed shut suddenly; and then she had flinched, tried to crawl further away from her mother, but not soon enough; she could feel a tight, burning pain along her scalp, remembered the pull of her mother's fingers twisting into her hair, yanking her closer, the grey of her eyes suddenly cold -

Calista threw herself out of bed, launching herself over the pile of blankets she'd thrown onto the floor. She couldn't stand, just now, being in this room that had suddenly reminded her of another quite similar to it. She went for the door, but on the way, she spied the book her aunt and uncle had given her for Christmas, sitting on the night table. She shoved it off, onto the floor, imagining a dark, wide volume falling onto the floor instead, a heavy book landing with a thud - if only she had known magic back then, she could have burned the book, burned her mother's fingers, stopped her from hurting her any more.

She exited her guest bedroom, walked down the richly-carpeted corridor to the one that she knew her father used when they were here. She frowned when she reached it, and saw that the door was firmly closed, and dark around the edges.

What had she expected, really? That light would be coming around the edges of the door, or that it would be ajar? That her father would be sitting in a chair, lights on, reading a book, at three o'clock in the morning? He didn't wake up when she had her nightmares anymore, not unless she directly called out to him; and she hadn't  _really_  felt threatened, so she hadn't done that.

She stepped away from his door, and walked back into her room. She glanced into the corners of the room as she entered, as if the memory of her mother would somehow become flesh and blood. She dressed quickly, in the plainest set of non-school robes she had, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She chose one of her new books, and took it downstairs with her. Closing the door on the guest bedroom felt vaguely symbolic, in the quiet darkness of the house.

She slipped down the stairs, and perched on the bottom stair, aiming her wand at the nearest light fixture, then slid it back into her pocket. She opened the cover of her book, though she didn't even begin to read it. Instead, she focused inwardly, examining her mental barriers for chinks, the way her father had showed her before. All the while, her ears were perked, for the sound of the door upstairs opening. She knew her father tended to be an early riser, and she was counting on him waking up before anyone else was up; but in case he didn't, she had the book balanced on her lap, a literal cover story.

She found two weaknesses in her outermost barrier, and concentrated on reweaving the fabric of her mind to reinforce them. It didn't take very long, but she spent extra time making certain that was all that she needed to repair, that she hadn't left any other entry points available. By the time she was confident that her defences were solid, it was nearly five in the morning. She stood up, and walked up half the flight, so she could see her father's door: still shut. She frowned, and was about to go back down the stairs, perhaps actually begin to read her book after all, when the door suddenly opened.

Severus appeared in the doorway, fully dressed, and also holding a book in one hand. Calista took two more steps, until she knew she was in his sight line, and their eyes met.

"You're awake earlier than usual," Severus observed, stepping out of his room.

"Yeah. Can we… can we go for a walk, or something?"

He studied her for a few seconds, and then nodded. "Put your cloak on," he advised, "I'll meet you downstairs in a few moments."

They began a swift walk around the grounds of the manor; not too far off them, because they were dressed in wizarding garb, and had to avoid areas populated by Muggles, but not near enough to the house to be overheard.

"I had a dream again," Calista confessed, after they had been outside a moment. Her breath fogged in the air in front of her; the light was still dim, the sun only beginning to rise above the horizon. "The same one, with the plant. I threw it out the window again, and then I tried to fix the window, like you said - but I couldn't, nothing happened."

He glanced at her, and she felt the brushing of his mind against hers, testing her barriers.

"I fixed it," she said, "I made myself wake up, I mean, and I fixed it, then."

Still, he seemed insistent on double-checking himself; after a moment, she felt him withdraw from her mind, evidently satisfied.

"Perhaps it's not surprising that you couldn't repair the breach in your dream," he told her, "You don't quite have the mastery to control your abilities unconsciously, yet."

"Well, what can I  _do_ , to practise that? Just… just keep having the same dream, doing the same thing?"

"Perhaps you can practise creating a rift in your barrier, and then repairing it, continuously. If you do it enough, it should become habit."

She nodded, and exhaled, releasing another puff of steam into the air.

"There's something else," Severus said, a keen observation, rather than a question.

She nodded. "Yeah. It's…"

She sighed. "I remembered something. A memory I don't think I had before - at least, I can't  _remember_  having it before."

His sidelong glance at her now was undeniably alarmed. "What memory?" he asked, tensely. "What did it pertain to?"

"It… it didn't really seem like anything important," she said quickly, "It was just I… I remembered my old bedroom, I think. The furniture and things. And… and I remembered  _her_ , reading to me from this book… I think it must have been some sort of register, she kept listing surnames."

Severus's shoulders relaxed; whatever he had feared that she suddenly remembered, evidently it was not this.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Mostly." She walked a few more paces in silence, and then: "She was cross with me. I… I guess she thought I wasn't listening to her."

Severus glanced at her again, but her eyes were fixed on the path ahead.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked, because he knew what she must have meant, when she said that Bellatrix had been cross.

"It already happened," she said, which didn't quite answer his question. "It's just a memory."

"Memories can be profoundly painful," he said, carefully.

"You know, it's not… it's not the memories of her… you know, pulling my hair, or hitting me, or anything like that, that are the worst ones. It's the other ones, the ones with… the ones where she's holding her wand… the ones where I can see her eyes, and they've gone all cold…"

She shivered, and pulled the hood on her cloak up, just as Severus looked over at her again, concern creasing his features.

"Sometimes I don't remember that part," she continued, and her already soft voice was muffled beneath the hood, so that Severus had to strain to hear her. "The… the curse. And I think maybe that's worse, because it's just… you know, I know it's coming, and there's nothing I can do."

Severus slipped his arm around her shoulders, not knowing if that was what she wanted or not, but feeling like he should do something to comfort her, to ground her to the present.

"That's not true, anymore," Severus told her quietly, "You're no longer powerless. You have your wand, and you know several defensive spells."

She chuckled, darkly. "I'm sure those Aurors knew defensive spells, too."

"Calista…" He didn't know what to say, not when he couldn't see her face, to know what sort of thing might comfort her in that moment.

"I'm just trying to be realistic," she said, shrugging his arm off her shoulders. "You don't need to tell me anything."

He frowned.

"The funny thing," she continued, after a moment, "Is that I suppose I must have been listening to her after all, if I still remember the words, now. She said… she said Black, that was her and I - and Burke, and Carrow, and… and Flint."

The sun was spilling across the mottled grass and snow now, tinting the morning with a hopeful, cheery sort of glow that Calista couldn't quite feel in her marrow.

"The pureblood families," Severus said, because it seemed that he should say something.

"I wish she didn't say Flint. I mean… I don't know, it makes me feel like… like she would approve of Marcus, and I don't  _want_  to choose something… something she would approve of."

"Why not?"

Calista looked up at him, slowing her pace. He slowed his to match.

"Are you serious? Why do you  _think_?"

"I'm certain there are several things about the way you are now that she would approve of," he said, careful again, "If you try to be only the opposite of what she would wish, then aren't you letting her control you as much as if you only chose things she did approve of?"

She frowned. "I don't know… I guess I haven't looked at it that way."

They were drawing up to the front gates of the manor again. Calista lowered her hood, and Severus took the opportunity to study her face.

"There's one other important difference, Calista. Between the time of your memory, and now."

"What's that?"

"You have your wand," he reiterated, "And you have  _me_. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, if she ever walks free again."

"I know," Calista said quietly, but she didn't look particularly comforted by that. "It's just… I guess that makes me nervous, too. Thinking that she might try to hurt you, because of me."

"Well, if it's any comfort, I have quite a bit of faith in my own skills as a duelist," he told her, "And at any rate, we are speaking in unlikely hypotheticals; Bellatrix is in Azkaban, and it seems likely that she will remain there for quite some time."

She nodded, and exhaled. "I think… I'm ready to go in now."

She flicked her gaze up to him, as they approached the front door again.

"Thanks, Dad."

"Any time, Calista," he said, with sincerity. She wondered if he had opened his present, yet.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Marcus and his parents were invited over on Friday evening. On Saturday, students would be returning to school, though classes would not recommence until Monday.

Before they arrived, Narcissa insisted on helping Calista get ready. Calista had worn her plain green robes, but Narcissa bade her change, into the soft, yellow ones that she almost never wore. They felt too pretty, too girly, too delicate; but Narcissa said they looked beautiful on her, and Calista relented, supposing that she could use all the help she could get.

Narcissa picked out her jewelry too, the locket she had been given for Christmas two years ago, and a pair of earrings that complemented the chain it was on. Her aunt didn't stop there; she also asked Calista to fetch the cosmetics she'd gotten for Christmas.

"I don't want to wear that stuff," Calista had said, turning her face away like a child refusing vegetables.

"Don't you want to look as nice as you can?" Narcissa wondered, puzzled by Calista's reaction.

"I want to look like  _me_ ," Calista said, "I don't want to look like…"

 _Like her_ , she'd been about to say, because she recalled the way that her reflection had seemed to morph in front of her, that day, long ago now, when Narcissa had had makeup put on her in the salon.

"I don't want to look like someone else," she settled for saying.

"But you won't, darling," Narcissa said, spying the packages sitting on one of the armchairs in the bedroom, and reaching for the pink powder. "You'll look like you, only a more polished version, yes?"

But Calista recalled the way that powder had highlighted her cheekbones, giving them a definition that looked too much like Bellatrix for her to find appealing at all.

"Please," she said, "I don't want that stuff. It looks… it  _doesn't_  look like me."

Narcissa frowned thoughtfully, setting the powder down.

"I don't want you to feel like someone else either, love. Tell me, which of your features are your favourites? We can simply highlight those, if you like."

"I don't like  _any_  of my features," Calista said, rolling her eyes.

"But you have such lovely cheekbones," Narcissa said, looking almost longingly at the package of blush.

"I don't want them to look like hers," Calista said, stiffly.

Narcissa tilted her head, studying her niece's features. It made Calista feel awkward and unattractive, being studied by her beautiful, graceful aunt. She found herself scowling; she couldn't help it.

"All right," Narcissa said, failing to disguise a delicate little chuckle, "What if we highlight those  _spirited_  eyes of yours?"

Calista considered. "I guess, fine," she said, an ungracious truce. At least her eyes were not like her mother's at all.

She regretted her decision to allow Narcissa to brush makeup onto her eyelids, however, when her eyes began watering almost immediately; and then, when Narcissa seemed to be drawing on her face with some sort of pencil, right near her eyes - she flinched away, and blinked several times, trying to clear her vision.

Narcissa made a little noise, and dabbed at Calista's face with a soft handkerchief. "Hold still, and try not to blink," her aunt advised, "I have to fix where it's smudged."

"This stuff is  _awful_ ," Calista complained. "It makes my eyes feel weird."

"Well, that's only when it's going on," Narcissa pointed out reasonably, as she attacked Calista's eyelids with some other stuff Calista didn't even try to identify, something she used a tiny, round brush to apply. "And you'll get used to it, eventually."

"No, I won't," Calista vowed. "I'm not going to put this stuff on again. Erm… sorry," she added, remembering too late that 'this stuff' was a gift from Narcissa, "But it's just… not me."

Narcissa stepped back, bringing her hands away from Calista's face. She smiled, somewhere between sly and affectionate.

"Not you? Why don't you look in the mirror, and let me know if you still feel the same."

Calista rolled her eyes, and walked over to the vanity beside the wardrobe, the one item in the room that she had not used once in all the time she had stayed there. Except, in the airy yellow robes, it was more like she  _floated_.

She could just see Narcissa in the background of the mirror's image, standing expectantly with her neck arched gracefully, and her arms folded. Calista sighed, and redirected her attention to her own reflection, expecting to look very much as she always did, except with green stuff smeared all over her eyelids.

"Oh."

That was all Calista could say, for a moment. And then, she managed: "That's… uhm, not so bad, I guess."

It wasn't bad, not at all. Somehow, Narcissa had made her eyes stand out, more than the rest of her face; more than her horrible wretched nose. There was a bit of shimmery green on her lids, but the effect wasn't really about that… her eyes looked larger, wider, more open. They were the first thing Calista noticed about her face, when she looked at her reflection, and she was  _expecting_  to see her big nose first.

"Well?" Narcissa prodded, "You still look like yourself, yes?"

"I guess." Calista turned her head, to make sure. Yes; she did look like herself, or at least she looked more like herself than she looked like anyone else. Behind her, Narcissa glowed.

"But I'm still not putting this stuff on my face all the time," Calista said, stubbornly.

Now it was Narcissa's turn to roll her eyes, and even this, she managed gracefully. "You're every bit as prickly as your father, darling."

Calista smiled, electing to take it as a complement, and stepped away from the mirror. "I know," she said, a note of pride in her voice.

After that, Narcissa had wanted to curl Calista's hair, or at least to curl the ends, and put a yellow hairband in that matched her dress, but Calista insisted on wearing her hair in a ponytail.

She told Narcissa she liked having it out of face, which was true, but her real motivation was the fact that Marcus had said he liked it that way, once. It was really the only thing he had ever said about her appearance, except for the day when he'd asked her why she looked like a girl suddenly.

She blushed a little, recalling that.  _I am a girl_ , she'd said crossly. Merlin,  _how_  had she managed to make him like her, with such a penchant for saying precisely what she probably shouldn't?

Narcissa had relented, after a short standoff, though she had insisted on styling Calista's fringe, leaving wispy, fine strands to fall loosely at the sides of her face.

And then, nearly as soon as they had finished, the doorbell rang. Calista rushed for the doorway, but Narcissa put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Slowly, darling. Let me go first, and let your young man in. That way, you can make a lovely entrance, down the stairs-"

"Aunt Narcissa," Calista interrupted, "I let you put stuff on my face, and put stupid pieces of hair in my face, and then there's  _these_ ," and she fingered the filmy ends of her sleeves, "But I am  _not_  making an entrance, like some kind of… of…"

"Debutante?" Narcissa supplied, at the top of the stairs.

"Yes,  _that._ I'm not doing it."

Lucius had reached the door just as Calista said that, and was letting the company in. She could hear the door opening, felt the rush of cool air climbing up the stairs.

Narcissa occupied the top stair for precious seconds, lingering as the guests came inside; Calista could hear unfamiliar voices, offering greetings and pleasantries. And then, she heard Marcus.

"Hello, sir," he said, politely. Her father must have approached the door, as well, because she could hear Marcus adding, "Hello, Professor."

He sounded as awkwardly pained as Calista felt, hovering in the hall in her fancy robes, with bits of hair tickling her cheeks.

"Ah, look at that," Narcissa murmured, victoriously. "It looks like you  _will_  be making an entrance, after all."

"No, I won't," Calista muttered, "I'll  _stay_  up here."

Narcissa tsked, and rolled her eyes again. Then, she took Calista's hand, and started to lead her down the stairs.

"Aunt Narcissa!" Calista hissed, under cover of the polite chatter from the foyer. "This is stupid, I don't want -"

"Hush, child, you'll thank me later, I promise."

"Somehow I don't think so," Calista said crossly; and of course, that was the precise moment when the chatter died down, and the foyer came into view. Dobby the house elf was slinking away with everyone's coats, and everyone's eyes fell on the pair coming down the stairs, one being led a bit forcefully by the other.

And this was the  _worst_  thing, wasn't it? To be stared at, while she was next to her beautiful, elegant aunt - she couldn't imagine a  _worse_  comparison to be set up for.

But Marcus' face lit up, anyway. "Calista," he said, happily. "Didn't look like you for a second, but it still  _sounds_ like you."

She blushed, immediately, making her way down the last couple of steps. Well, at least she had gotten  _that_  out of the way very early on.

She noticed there was some sort of clumsily wrapped package on the floor behind Marcus; she couldn't tell what it was, but she could tell it  _wasn't_ his broom, so evidently he wasn't going to give her another flying lesson today. She supposed it was just as well, she with her unwieldy dress robes on.

"Oberon," Lucius cut in smoothly, introducing the guests. "If I may introduce my wife, Narcissa. My son, Draco," and Draco had appeared in the foyer, as suddenly as if he'd apparated there. He eyed the guests with interest, particularly Marcus.

"And my niece, Calista. I believe she and your son are already… acquainted."

Marcus grinned at Calista, and for a second, it might have been a nice moment, despite the awkwardness of Narcissa's planned 'entrance', had Severus not elected that moment to hover right behind Calista, placing his hands on both of her shoulders.

"Ah, and last but certainly not least," Lucius said, with a subtle spark of amusement, "My good friend, Severus Snape; you know he is the Potions Master at Hogwarts, of course."

"Pleased to meet all of you, I'm sure," Marcus' father, Oberon said. "This is my wife, Antoinette, and my son, Marcus."

Oberon was tall and broad, like his son, with dark hair and twinkling blue eyes. Despite the fact that he had worn dress robes, he had a very casual bearing; Calista thought he looked like he'd just stepped off a Quidditch pitch.

Antoinette was quite pretty; she was small and fine-boned, with a narrow, fragile-looking sort of face that was framed by shoulder-length, curly blonde hair. Her eyes were the same warm grey as Marcus', though they were a different shape.

"The pleasure is ours," Antoinette said. Her voice was light and airy, to match her appearance. "It's so nice to meet one of Marcus' professors. And Calista; so nice to finally meet you as well, Marcus has told us all about you."

"She doesn't normally look so dressed up," Draco volunteered, helpfully.

Calista cut a glare at her younger cousin.

"By the way, I'm going to Hogwarts next year," Draco drawled, now that he had gotten everyone's attention. "I'm going to be in Slytherin, like Mother and Father, of course."

"That's enough, Draco," Lucius said. And then, with a glance around the company, "I believe dinner is ready, yes, Narcissa?"

With that, they all proceeded to the dining room; the table had been sized appropriately to accommodate all of the guests comfortably.

Calista approached her chair, and then glanced up, over her shoulder.

" _Dad_ ," she whispered, shrugging her shoulders lightly.

He finally remembered to take his hands off of them, and she took her seat, the last to sit, but for Severus, who looked put out that Narcissa was on one side of her, and Draco the other. It was not their usual arrangement, but it was one that put Calista directly across from Marcus, and Severus several seats removed from them both.

The meal started off all right, though Calista was too nervous to even taste her food; in fact, she was too nervous to even feel hungry, but she didn't want to appear to be one of those girls that never ate anything, didn't want to appear to be  _anything_  that would draw undue attention to herself, so she forced herself to eat a moderate amount.

Oberon was seated by Lucius, and the two of them chatted about Ministry affairs, though Oberon had a tendency to bring it back to Quidditch quite often; but after all, Narcissa had said that he worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, so perhaps Quidditch and Ministry affairs were all the same, to him.

Beside Oberon was Marcus, and beside him, Antoinette. Marcus' mother was peppering Severus with polite questions, about Hogwarts, Potions in general, and Marcus' class in particular. Calista overheard her telling Severus that she had attended Beauxbatons, herself.

Severus, for his part, was answering her with something that at least approached civility, but his eyes kept darting to Calista, as if he expected her to leap across the table and start snogging Marcus in front of them all, or something.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Calista?" Marcus asked her, attempting the same sort of bright politeness that his mother was; it was a bit unlike him, but then, he must have felt Severus' eyes on them, too.

She nodded. "Yeah. It was good. Yours?"

He mirrored her nod. "Good."

Their eyes caught, and suddenly, both of them were stifling grins; Calista hid hers behind her hand.

"Excuse me. Marcus, is it?" Draco asked, imperiously from beside Calista.

Marcus nodded.

"Are you my cousin's boyfriend, then?"

Calista blushed. Severus' eyes narrowed, boring into Marcus; Lucius looked at him too, a mildly interested expression finding its way to his face. Oberon merely looked amused.

"Erm," Marcus said, "Sort of. I mean, I was. I think. I want to be. But, erm… we have to make sure it's all right with her dad first. And… and my parents, too," he added, even though that had not really been in question.

Oberon chuckled. "All right? The boy's marks have never been higher, and he's flying brilliantly. Must be planning on showing off for that girl, I said, when I saw him whizzing around this past summer on his Cleansweep. Yeah, I'd say it's all right with  _me_ , that's for sure."

"Marcus does seem very happy," Antoinette offered.

"And Calista seems very  _young_ ," Severus said, waspishly.

"Dad!" Calista looked at him, pleadingly.  _Stop it,_  she willed him mentally, but she didn't know if he got the message.

"Ah," Lucius said, "We who have only sons cannot begin to understand the plight of those raising daughters, can we?"

"Well, I can't say I blame the poor professor," Oberon said, cheekily. "I recall what I was like, at Marcus' age - I wouldn't have let my daughter near me either, if I had one! But Marcus is a good sort of lad, not nearly as much trouble as his old man was, eh?"

Severus, however, appeared to have heard only the first half of this; he was looking as if he'd swallowed an asp.

"I like Quidditch," Draco said, to anyone who would pay him any mind. "I want to play, when I go to Hogwarts - you do know I'm starting at Hogwarts soon, of course?"

Calista and Marcus' eyes met, and they both stifled a grin again.

"Marcus is an excellent player," Oberon informed Draco, "Team Captain this year, you know."

"Which position?" Draco wanted to know.

"Chaser," Marcus answered.

"And good enough to play professionally, as soon as he's through with school," Oberon added, and then, to Marcus: "As long as those marks stay up enough to keep you on the team."

"I know, Dad," Marcus said, tiredly. "I'm keeping them up."

"He's a good student when he wants to be," Antoinette said, patting her son on the shoulder. "He just needs to keep applying himself."

Marcus was looking distinctly uncomfortable; Calista decided to try and rescue him.

"Draco might want to try out for the team next year," she volunteered, "When he starts at -"

"Hogwarts," Draco cut in, brightly, as if he were delivering a news bulletin. "I'm starting in the fall, you know."

"Erm, yeah," Marcus said, stifling what threatened to be yet another grin. "You might've mentioned that a bit, already."

"So," Draco said, cocking his head. "You  _are_  Calista's boyfriend, then, or you aren't?"

"Draco, eat your sprouts," Narcissa admonished, quietly. Severus looked like he was trying not to throw his plate.

"Well, I dunno," Marcus said, uneasily. "I guess that… erm, I guess that depends, on if her dad says it's okay."

"Of course it depends -" Severus began, but Lucius cut him off, smoothly.

"You are aware, of course, Mr. Flint," he said, "That Calista's family cares a great deal for her. I'm certain it doesn't need to be said, but her father is quite protective of her; and I would not like it so much if my niece were hurt, either."

There was a threat, woven into the light tone of his voice; Oberon caught it, and narrowed his eyes.

"See here, Lucius, I've told you, Marcus is a good lad -"

"Dad, it's okay," Marcus said, and then he swallowed, and looked at Lucius. "I don't want Calista to be hurt either, sir. I… I like her a lot. And he…"

He paused, and turned his gaze to Severus, at the end of the table. "And you know how I feel, sir. I… I told you, I don't plan on hurting her."

Calista blushed furiously; Narcissa smiled kindly, encouragingly, at Calista.

"He's a nice young man," Narcissa murmured, near her ear.

Still, there was a palpable tension around the table, between all of the males - well, all of them except Draco.

"You can't marry Calista, you know," Draco piped up, into the silence, "She doesn't want to cook dinner, or share her room."

" _Draco!_ " Calista said, horrified. "You… you brat! You've got sprouts on your lap, you know, I can see them in your napkin!"

"I do not," Draco protested, face flushing, but Narcissa was already admonishing him for the pile of sprouts that he had indeed spirited into his napkin.

"Erm," Marcus said, biting his lip. "Thanks… thanks for the warning, Draco. I'll keep that in mind."

"That's not exactly what I said -" Calista began.

"She doesn't like kissing, either!" Draco added, but he quickly lowered his gaze and fell silent, when his father's glare landed on him.

"That's quite enough, Draco," Lucius said, ominously.

Marcus was laughing now; he tried to hide it behind his hand, but it was of no use.

"I don't… I don't think  _that's_  true," he managed, and then Severus was setting his own napkin on the table, with rather more force than was necessary.

"I believe I've lost my appetite," Severus said, "Calista? Have you finished eating?"

" _Dad_ ," she said again, "Stop it. Can we… please, can we just have a  _normal_  dinner?"

"There's nothing normal about any of this," Severus said, veering close to petulance.

"Nonsense, Severus. We are all enjoying a civilised meal, getting acquainted with each other," Lucius said, composed as always, "Draco will behave from this point forward, or he will find himself retiring early this evening."

Draco stared resolutely down at his plate; Narcissa shifted her attention back to her own meal, and Severus reluctantly picked up his napkin, and dropped it back on his lap.

"So, Calista," Antoinette said, with forced cheeriness, "Marcus tells me you're quite the student; which class is your favourite?"

Calista glanced down the table at her father, who still looked as though he might be harbouring a snake somewhere in his insides.

"Erm, it's Potions," she said, even though that wasn't quite true, anymore. She might have imagined it, but she thought her father looked slightly less murderous.

"She's brilliant at everything, though," Marcus offered. "She's got this Freezing Charm - it lasts longer than anyone's I've ever seen. And she writes all these essays… and I've seen her hex someone, I know better than to get on her bad side, yeah?"

Calista looked up a Marcus; he was grinning. She felt her cheeks tingling, knew there was no chance of her blush fading soon; still, Severus looked a bit milder, now. Perhaps it had been the reminder that Calista could hex Marcus if he tried anything funny.

"Well, Marcus is better than me at Transfiguration," she offered, and his mother looked pleased.

"Not for long, you'll catch up," Marcus reassured her, and then: "She packs a good punch too, incidentally; s'why I thought maybe she could play Beater, before."

"Well," Calista said, and she thought the room felt quite warm, all of a sudden, "Marcus is a brilliant flyer, better than anyone else at Hogwarts, I think."

Now it was Oberon's turn to look pleased; he positively beamed, and nudged his son's shoulder with his hand. "You see, son? I told you, you'll play professionally. And it  _does_  help you catch the ladies' eyes, eh?"

Marcus shrugged. "I only care about Calista's eyes. Erm…"

And now Marcus was the one blushing furiously, and avoiding Calista's gaze; his father clapped him on the shoulder, again. "Team Captain," he said, "I can still hardly believe it."

"He's very good," Calista said, and she wasn't sure what made her press on, except perhaps that she found it a bit unnerving and more than a bit endearing that Marcus was the one blushing now, "He draws up these brilliant strategy diagrams…"

"That's not brilliant," Marcus said, dismissively, and then he addressed the table again, "She's the brilliant one, she does this Arithmancy stuff - I don't even know what it all is, but it sounds complicated."

"I wonder," Lucius drawled, "Does anyone suppose these two young people are fond of each other?"

Most of them chuckled at that; everyone but Severus, who was still looking pained, and Draco, who was still glowering at his sprouts.

By then, they had finished eating, with the exception of Draco's sprouts. Narcissa told them that they would serve sweets with tea in the drawing room shortly, and everyone rose from their seats.

Severus looked like he had something to say to Calista, or perhaps he only wanted to place his hands possessively at her shoulders again, because he headed for her directly; but she never found out precisely what he wanted, because Marcus leapt up, then.

"Calista," he said, "I've got something for you - for Christmas, yeah? Wait right here."

So she waited, awkwardly, a few paces from the table. Oberon and Lucius were talking again, as they exited the room from the opposite door, but Narcissa and Antoinette were watching for Marcus to return, Antoinette with a soft, amused smile playing at her lips.

Marcus returned, bearing the awkwardly shaped, clumsily-wrapped package. It clinked oddly, like glass, and it seemed fairly heavy. Instead of handing it to her directly, he set it on the end of the table, which had already been cleared, either by magic or by the house-elf; Calista had not been paying attention.

"Okay," Marcus said, and he stepped to the side, inviting her to open it. Severus hovered nearby, perhaps in case he had cause to glower menacingly at Marcus again.

Calista tore the paper off, to reveal a wooden rack with a dozen glass jars on it, each filled with something; she leaned over, examining it more closely. They were all potions ingredients… amaryllis, asphodel, belladonna…

"I got you flowers," Marcus said, with a goofy sort of grin.

Calista looked up into his face, her own mouth stretching into a matching grin. "You did," she said, "And they're all useful."

"Do you… do you like them?" Marcus wondered, anxiously.

She nodded, enthusiastically. "They're… I love them," she said. "Now I know why girls always want them."

She took a step towards him, and threw her arms up around his shoulders in a hug; she was careful to keep her mouth away from his, because she wanted to kiss him, badly, in that moment, but she knew that doing so was not likely to have pleasurable consequences, with her father still glowering in the corner.

He hugged her back. "I'm really glad you like them," he said, and he sounded it.

"The whole thing was his idea," Antoinette was telling Narcissa and Severus quietly, though not quietly enough to prevent Calista from overhearing. "Oberon and I were trying to tell him to get chocolates, or a book of poetry, or something, but he insisted she'd like this better… and I must say, it looks like he's right."

"I hate poetry," Calista commented, even though she wasn't supposed to have heard. She stepped back, reluctantly, from Marcus, so as not to incite her father.

"Me, too," Marcus said, firmly.

Narcissa and Antoinette chuckled.

"Come, Severus, let's make our way to the drawing room," Narcissa suggested gently, "I'm certain Marcus and Calista will join us in a moment."

"Go on ahead," Severus said, and there was something peculiar in his voice; Calista couldn't quite place it. "I'll join you shortly."

Antoinette and Narcissa left through the opposite door, the one Lucius and Oberon had gone through; Draco must have slipped through at some point as well, because both he and his sprouts had disappeared.

Now it was only the three of them, Severus and Marcus and Calista; she hoped he wasn't about to threaten Marcus, again. She'd been careful not to do more than hug him, nearly the same way she would hug Percy or Amelia - nearly. Perhaps she had lingered a bit longer, brushed her fingers lightly against the nape of his neck… perhaps. But Severus wouldn't have seen that.

"I don't like the idea of my daughter dating anyone," Severus said plainly, to both of them. "I don't suppose I will become accustomed to it any time soon."

He frowned, and stepped closer. He addressed Marcus directly, and to Marcus' credit, he met Severus' gaze more or less steadily.

"You are not to sneak off to the Owlery together," he said, "Or an empty classroom, or anywhere else you might be tempted to get carried away. And you'd do well to remember that Calista will not be of age for nearly a year after you are."

He shifted his gaze to Calista. "Your schoolwork must not suffer, nor your elective studies. I expect you to be honest when I question you, regardless of how  _embarrassing_  you might find my line of questioning."

He took one step closer, so he was right in front of Marcus, and addressed the young man again, a clear, sharp threat in his tone.

"And if I get wind that you've so much as  _considered_  taking advantage of my daughter, or if you hurt her in any way… you can forget about being expelled, boy, I'll poison you myself."

He sounded very much as if he meant it; he waited until Marcus nodded his understanding, before he backed down, and regarded both of them from a couple of paces away.

"However. If the two of you agree to all of that, then I… I will condone your relationship."

He said this last bit very reluctantly; at first, Calista hardly dared to believe he had actually said it.

"Dad?" Calista ventured, after a few seconds had passed in silence. "Are you… really? I can… I can date him?"

He narrowd his eyes, looking like the snake had returned to settle in his throat. "Remember  _all_  of what I said," he warned, sternly. "You both need to acknowledge my terms."

Calista and Marcus exchanged a quick look; and then, instantaneously, both of them grinned. Calista knew she was blushing  _again_ , but for once it didn't seem like so awful of a thing.

"I agree," Calista said.

"Me, too," Marcus nodded.

Severus nodded, too, with aggrieved reluctance once again, and then there was a queer noise in his throat; he straightened, and affected a neutral expression.

"I shall see both of you in the next room," he said, "In no less than two minutes."

He excused himself from the room, then; no sooner had the door closed behind him than Calista wrapped her arms around Marcus again, and his came around her waist just as quickly.

This time, they dared to make eye contact; Marcus exhaled, past a catch in his throat.

"Let's try this again," he murmured, "Can I kiss you, now?"

She nodded, just as she had in the Owlery, nine months ago now. The difference was that, this time, when his lips came down softly on hers, she knew what to do; she kissed him back, just as sweetly.

"By the way," Marcus said, as they separated, knowing their two minutes was nearly up, and Severus would undoubtedly come to fetch them if they overstayed it, "You're even prettier than usual, today."

"I'm not pretty," Calista muttered, feeling her entire face flush.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Of course you are," he said, as if he thought she was playing around. "Those eyes…" he shook his head, with a sheepish grin. "I don't have to tell you how much trouble they've gotten me into, huh?"

Calista felt like her heart might explode; and it had never occurred to her before that that might be a feeling she could have, and that it might even be a  _good_  feeling.

"We better… we better go in, for tea," Calista stammered, wondering if she had somehow managed to fall asleep, and dream this evening; but no. She didn't think she would have dreamt Draco's outbursts.

Marcus nodded. "There's one thing, Calista…"

"What's that?"

"I don't really want to cook, either, so… you know, if it ever comes to that, we're going to have to figure something out."

She scowled. "Sometimes my cousin is really annoying."

"Well," Marcus said, "I'm just glad he was wrong, about the kissing."


	8. Chapter 8

As soon as they had Severus' reluctant blessing, Marcus made certain that everyone knew he was dating Calista; he made a point to walk with her to some of her classes, even when it put him at risk of being late for some of his own, he frequently saved her a seat among his teammates at mealtimes, and he was not shy at all about calling her his girlfriend.

When Marcus called an impromptu Quidditch practise the week before the Slytherin-Hufflepuff match, one of the Beaters, Ben Ivans, had smirked at Marcus and teased, "Is your  _girlfriend_  going to come, too?"

If his intention had been to embarrass Marcus, however, it had backfired.

"Yeah, maybe," Marcus had said, and then he'd marched over to where she was sitting with her nose in her Transfiguration book, and kissed her cheek, closing the book neatly at the same time.

"No more Arithmancy," he'd said, "Come watch the team practise, yeah?"

"It's not Arithmancy," she'd said, scowling and blushing at the same time, which she supposed in retrospect had probably not been the most attractive thing to do. "And I need to study."

"I was thinking we could go flying again, after practise is over…" he'd suggested, and that had settled that. Calista picked up the closed book, and dropped it off in her room, donning her new cloak on the way out.

Most of Marcus' teammates were all right, although they did tease her a bit about studying too much. Terence, the Seeker, was the exception, because he was one of the better students in Marcus' year himself, and Calista had seen him carrying one of his textbooks to practise to read during downtime more than once. They teased  _him_  about that, too, especially Ben and Ian, the Beaters, who often proudly proclaimed that they were taking only three classes each.

Now that Marcus and Calista were so obviously a couple, Olivia had gone back to loudly proclaiming him a troll. She liked to tell Portia in a voice that carried clear across the common room that she felt bad for anyone who was so ugly they had to resort to dating  _Snapelet_  - but Calista found that, for once, nothing Olivia said had the power to bother her.

For the first time, she felt like Olivia had possibly been right, when she'd said that Calista had everything. She was doing well in school - except for Transfiguration, but even there, she was improving little by little - and she had friends she felt she could more or less be herself with, and a boyfriend - a  _boyfriend_ , she would sometimes remind herself, because it didn't seem real - who treated her kindly and was also, in Calista's opinion, incredibly cute. On top of all that, she was back to getting along with her father, and that was a bigger relief than she thought anyone realised, and she had her Aunt Narcissa besides.

Now that Marcus and Calista were officially allowed to date, they went flying together fairly regularly, which Calista was beginning to enjoy more and more, though if she were completely honest, her favourite part was after they had landed, when he would often linger with his arms around her, and she was no longer afraid of falling or crashing, so she could really concentrate on how nice that felt.

One of those times, on a Friday evening, after they landed, Marcus kissed the back of her neck again, like he had once at the end of the prior school year. This time, though, she had her winter cloak on, and he had to manoeuvre around her hood to do it; he laughed, tightening his arms around her middle, and leaning forward to kiss her ear instead.

"The fur on your hood tickles," he said, near her ear. She shivered, and the cool wind felt nice on her warm cheeks; she knew she was blushing, but it was dark, and anyway, she thought he ought to be used to that by now. "I think I almost inhaled it."

She turned her head, and her face was near his. "Well, don't put your face near it then," she said, which sounded mean but she hadn't really meant it that way.

"Brilliant," Marcus murmured, "Is that what they teach you in Arithmancy? Mind-blowing logic like that?"

She snorted. "Yeah. I have six hours of homework a week, that's just writing 'don't stick your face in fur hoods' over and over again…"

"Sounds really hard," Marcus said. "No wonder you need so many books."

"What is it that you have against Arithmancy, anyway? You're always taking cracks at it."

She expected him to make another joke, but instead, he released his hold on her, leaning back slowly, and dismounting carefully from his broomstick. He held his hand out to her, to help her off, too, and she took it even though she didn't need to.

"Honestly?" Marcus said, and he slung his broomstick over one shoulder, keeping her hand with his. He started to walk towards the stands, but he glanced sidelong at her before he spoke again.

"I'm a bit jealous that I'd never understand any of that stuff," he admitted.

"Well, I'll never understand how to fly on my own," Calista said, and Marcus shook his head.

"Sure you will, if you keep practising -"

"Which I don't really want to do -"

"But it's not the same anyway. Flying is like, it's easy, anyone can learn how to do it. There's… there's nothing special about being good at it. Being clever though, like you and all your friends - not everyone can do that."

Calista snorted. "Flying is easy to you, just like Potions is easy to me. It's not like that for everyone. Just… you know, you're good at it, so you think it's easy, but it's really not. And by the way, Arithmancy isn't  _easy_  for me. And you  _know_  Transfiguration isn't."

"Well, whatever you say. I think flying's easy."

"Not for me. Not for a lot of people. And anyway, you fly better than…" she felt herself blushing again. "You fly better than anyone else I've seen. I mean, even at practises… you're better than the rest of the team."

Marcus grinned. "Thanks."

They had reached the edge of the stands now, and were standing there, out of view of anyone who might walk by the pitch; but even if anyone had been able to see them, it was nearly dark, anyway. Evidently, that fact had just occurred to Marcus, or perhaps it was why he had guided them towards that spot in the first place. He leaned his broomstick against the wall at the front of the stands, and reached for Calista, wrapping one arm around her waist, and cupping the side of her face with the other.

It was cold, and when they kissed, fog steamed the air in between them; after a minute, Marcus laughed, lowering his hand from her face but keeping his other arm wrapped around her. Another huff of air escaped his mouth, hanging in the darkness between them for a second before it dissipated.

"S'cold," Marcus said, "But I still don't want to go inside."

"Me either," Calista said, and she thought her voice sounded as dazed as she felt; kissing Marcus wasn't new anymore, but it still made her heart race, and her mind buzz. And, of course, it made her cheeks flush with colour, and her mouth say stupid things from time to time.

"I still can't believe your dad finally said it was okay… you know, for us… for this," Marcus said, "I was pretty sure he didn't like me, much."

"I'm really surprised," Calista said, "I thought for sure he'd never… I mean, he used to say, when I was small, that I couldn't have a boyfriend until I was thirty."

"Well, he'd have a hard time enforcing  _that,_ " Marcus chuckled.

"Yeah. It wouldn't have surprised me if he tried, anyway. I think… I think meeting your parents helped, you know? Especially since they seemed okay with it… with us."

Marcus snorted, and squeezed his arm a little tighter around her waist. "Okay with it? They're bloody thrilled. S'the first time I've ever cared about school."

She laughed. "So you just tried harder in your classes to try and make my dad like you?"

"Nah," Marcus said, "I mean, yeah, that probably helped, but I started trying for  _you_. You know, so you would see me as something other than this idiot in a bunch of remedial classes."

"That's not how I… Marcus, I don't think of you like that."

"Okay, a  _flying_  idiot in remedial classes," he amended, and his tone was light, but there was something tense in his expression that Calista's sharp eyes picked up on as something heavier.

"You're not an idiot," Calista said, and she felt a flash of guilt somewhere in the back of her mind, because that  _was_  precisely what she'd thought, once.

"Well, compared to that Weasley and your other friends, I am," he said, and there was a note of anxiety that caught at the tail end of his words. "I'm always sort of afraid you'll suddenly realise that and - and decide to go for him. Weasley. Or maybe some smarmy Ravenclaw."

He frowned, and shook his head. "That was stupid, I shouldn't have given you the idea…"

It was Calista's turn to snort. " _That's_  stupid, what you're saying now. I don't like Percy that way, and he doesn't like me like that, either. And if we're going to talk about - about one of us suddenly  _realising_  something, what about you realising -"

She stopped, felt her face flush. She shook her head.

"Realising what, Calista?" Marcus asked, "I already know you're scared of flying alone, and I don't care. I'll help you if you want, you know that."

"Well, it's not  _that_ ," she said, and she sucked in her cheeks, rolled her eyes, and then exhaled, emitting another puff of steam into the chill night air. "You - you're  _really_  good-looking, all right? Way more than me. As soon as  _you_  realise that, realise you can have -"

"Calista."

"Can have Endria, or - or Olivia, or even Emily -"

Marcus leaned forward suddenly, and planted a firm kiss on her mouth, stopping her from finishing the list of girls she was afraid of losing him to.

"I'm glad you think I'm  _really_  good-looking," he said, his trademark grin finding its way to his face again. She knew her cheeks were on fire.

"Yeah, well, I think everyone does," she muttered. She was picturing all the girls who cheered on the team at every game, remembering how Olivia had decided to fancy him when she found out that Calista did, though Calista suspected she had actually fancied him all along.

"I dunno about that," he said, "But you're - hang on, you said something at Christmas break too, when I was at your family's - you do realise you're  _really good-looking_  too, right?"

"Maybe… maybe I'm okay with all that stuff my aunt put on my face, but I'm  _not_  going to do that every day -"

"You're not just 'okay', with stuff on your face or not," Marcus said, "You're…"

He leaned his forehead against hers, lowering his voice. She could feel his breath, warm, on her nose and mouth.

"You're the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, to me," he said, and Calista pulled back from him, snorting in disbelief.

"Yeah, okay," she said, "You sit in a classroom with Endria Folland all day, and I'm supposed to believe  _that_? Look, I can see lots of reasons for you to like me - I'm clever, like you say, I know that. I'm not a prat, like Olivia, or I try not to be, and we get along really good, you and I - but I also have a big nose and I'm too skinny, and my eyes are a weird color, and I  _know_  all that stuff, so don't try and lie to me -"

Marcus, for some reason, was chuckling now. "I told my dad you wouldn't like that line," he said, "He told me girls always like that stuff, I keep telling him you're not the same as other girls - but it's true, Calista, I  _do_  think that. I don't really see what you're talking about, with your nose, I think it's fine, and your eyes are amazing, no one else has eyes like that -"

"My dad does," Calista said, and chalked it up to the whole idea of her mouth saying stupid things without her permission.

"Eugh, okay, that's a bit creepy," Marcus said. "I definitely don't want to think of it like that…"

"Sorry."

"It's… it's not the same, anyway," Marcus said, awkwardly. "You're… you know, you're a  _girl_ -"

"Thanks for clearing that up."

"And yours are… bigger, you know? Wider. And… and… erm, this is horrible. Can I just… let's just kiss some more, yeah? That's much more fun than this."

"Yeah, okay," she said, and they did. His hand came up to the side of her face again, fingers inching their way to the back of her head, and somehow that made the kiss seem more serious, more exhilarating, and somehow, a little more frightening than any of their others, like he might refuse to let her go if she decided to stop kissing him -

She stopped kissing him, pulling her face back an inch, just to test. He exhaled, and when she looked at his eyes, even in the dark she could see something there, a glazed quality she didn't think she'd ever seen before -

_Beautiful - soft, warm mouth - want to keep kissing her - am I bad at this? I hope not, she's so -_

She gasped, and stepped back quickly, averting her eyes. Not  _again_ , she'd picked up on his thoughts somehow - but really?  _Those_  were his thoughts? If she hadn't already been blushing, she would have started then. It wasn't just the bits of thought, the snatches of words she'd gotten - there was something else too, a thread of feeling that was very much the same as the one that made her heart pound when they were kissing, only, if anything, it was even bigger and stronger than anything she felt herself.

"Calista?" Marcus' brows were knit in concern. She was afraid to meet his gaze directly, but she could see bewilderment on his features, even in the dark. "I - I'm sorry, was I - was that too much? Or just… was it just bad?"

"No," she said, and she couldn't help but draw back another step; he dropped his arm from her waist. "No, not - none of that. Sorry, I just - er, nothing."

"Well, I did  _something_  wrong," he insisted, sticking his hands in the pockets of his robes. "I wish you'd tell me what, so I don't do it again."

"No," she said again, "It's not… you didn't do anything wrong."

"Erm," he said, "Then why aren't we still kissing?"

"Because… because…"

She took a steadying breath. She wasn't really supposed to talk about her Occlumency or Legilimency lessons… but then, she hadn't done that on purpose, so it hadn't  _really_  been because of her lessons, had it? And anyway, it seemed really unfair to be able to hear his thoughts and not at least warn him about it. But what if he thought it was creepy? Well, it  _was_  creepy, she felt that way. But still; she should tell him, shouldn't she? It was only fair.

"Because there's this… this thing that happens to me sometimes," she said, cautiously, "Something… well, I guess it's more like something I can do, but I didn't do it on purpose, I don't even really know  _how_  to do it on purpose..."

"Yeah, I have no idea what you're talking about," he said sheepishly, when she paused.

"Sometimes I - well, it's happened twice, anyway - I can… I can sort of tell what you're thinking, for a second."

"What d'you mean? Of course you can tell what I was thinking, I mean, I was  _doing_  what I was thinking about…"

"No, I mean…" she puffed another breath of air out. "I mean, I can  _really_  tell… it's kind of like I can hear… uhm, hear what you're thinking."

"Wait… seriously?"

She nodded, unhappily. "Yeah… seriously. I don't  _mean_  to, but it's… well, it's called legilimency, it's actually a magical discipline… I mean, people can study it, you know? Add I just… well, a couple of times, I think I've done it by accident. With you."

"That sounds really hard… how can you do something like that by  _accident_?"

"Well, it's easier to read someone's thoughts if they're about you," she said, repeating what her father had told her, "And if they're in, you know, a heightened emotional state, or whatever."

"That's still…" he shook his head. "I mean, that's wild. You should - you should be taking Divination."

"It's nothing like that," she said, quickly. "It's… I mean, it's just like… kind of like being able to read someone's expression, you know, but better. And I… I didn't  _mean_  to… to hear your thoughts, it just  _happened_ , when we were kissing. One other time before, too. It was just - you know, we were… and then I looked at your eyes, and I just sort of… heard you, I guess."

"Well, what was I thinking, then?"

"Uhm… you know, about… about kissing…"

"Well, duh."

"And… uhm, you were afraid you were bad at it. You're… you're not, by the way. You're  _definitely_  not."

He grinned. She felt her stomach flop over.

"I just…" she said, finding it suddenly difficult to keep talking about this, when he was giving her that disarming grin, when she was standing a couple of paces from him in the dark and cold, and all she wanted to do was go back to how they had been a few minutes before. "I got a bit freaked out, is all. I didn't expect that to happen."

"I guess it is pretty weird," he said, frowning. "Maybe… maybe you can figure out, you know, how  _not_  to do it?"

"Yeah, maybe," she said, hopefully. "I can try."

He nodded, and glanced back towards the castle.

"I think we're going to miss dinner," he said, "We should probably go back, huh?"

"Probably," she agreed, but then she inched closer to him again, allowing a sly little grin to find its way to her face.

"Or," she suggested, "We could go back to kissing for a bit, and then just go nick stuff from the kitchens after."

"Hey, I thought you were going to try not to read my mind."

Her little smile spread into a grin, and then she stepped up to him, putting her hands on his shoulders, and lifting her face to kiss him again; his arms came around her, one hand going to the back of her head again. It was still exhilarating, but maybe it wasn't really so frightening, since it was still Marcus, after all. She closed her eyes firmly, and kissed him without thinking about anything else.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The anonymous letters Calista had received at Christmas occupied a corner of her mind, and she found herself thinking about them in idle moments. Who were the others that Olivia was tormenting? As far as Calista had always believed, it was only herself, and by extension, a few of her friends… but the letters suggested otherwise.

Always before, she noticed Olivia only when she had reason to be wary of her; when Olivia was teasing Calista, or trying to blackmail her, or bothering Calista's friends. The rest of the time, she'd been more than happy to ignore the other girls' presence entirely. Now, though, she tried to pay attention, to see what Olivia was up to when she wasn't tormenting Calista.

It didn't take long to see her in action, once Calista had made a conscious effort to see it. In class, there were snide comments under her breath to Portia; Calista had truthfully always assumed that all of these were about her, and she ignored them the best that she could, but it turned out that quite a few of them were aimed at other people. George Spratt, the overweight Slytherin boy who had once had a reputation for having an unfortunate odor, was a favourite target. Calista had sat next to him a couple of times this year, though, and he didn't seem to smell anymore. Maybe his younger sister, Daisy, had clued him in on his problem.

Olivia didn't seem to have noticed that George didn't smell anymore, though. She spent History of Magic one day trying to catch his eye, and then promptly pinching her nose whenever she managed it. When he started resolutely ahead, ignoring her third or fourth attempt to poke fun at him, she started hissing at him under her breath, loud enough for most of the students around to hear, but evidently not loud enough for Professor Binns to overhear.

"Psst, Fat Spratt," she said, while his face turned red and he refused to look at her.

It wasn't only in class, either; whenever she passed George in the common room, she'd hold her nose, and Calista heard her loudly making fun of him at dinner one night, asking him not to eat the  _entire_  turkey, please.

Calista had never really felt one way or the other about George Spratt; they were in the same year, a lot of the same classes, but they had never really spoken much. She was friendly with his younger sister, Daisy, and liked her well enough, but she had never really given George a second thought, until she realised that  _he_  was Olivia's latest target - or maybe he had been one all along, and Calista had been too self-absorbed to notice that she wasn't the only one Olivia liked to make miserable.

Now, though… well, if Marcus and Olivia were  _right_ , if she really was somehow a favourite of all the teachers, if she was somewhat popular among the other students - although internally, she still doubted this - well, then, it would make sense for her to stand up for him, wouldn't it? If she was really the only one who had stood up to Olivia before, then she was probably the only one who would ever do it now, and  _someone_  had to, didn't they?

She recalled the way that Kim and her friends had always taken her side, welcoming her into the fringes of their group (once they'd stopped teasing her) and giving her some measure of protection among the students. What would she have done, if she hadn't been able to latch onto Kim's group, in her first year? She would have continued being miserable, through Olivia's mounting animosity. She could still recall how awful that had felt, and she didn't want to let that miserable priss do that to  _anyone_  anymore.

One evening, while Calista was studying in the common room, next to Marcus, and Olivia was holding court on one of the oversized sofas with Portia, Emily, and her third-year cronies, she heard Olivia starting in on George again. He had just stepped through the common room entrance, perhaps a half hour after everyone else had come from dinner.

"Oh, look, it's Fat Spratt," Olivia said, loudly and snidely, "Finally finished eating the scraps off all the House tables, have you?"

George flushed, while Olivia's cronies tittered; Emily alone wasn't laughing, and she looked nearly as uncomfortable as George did. He looked like he might open his mouth, say something in his own defence, but then he only shook his head, ducked it low, and continued on his way. He glanced around at the study tables, as if he were considering them, but before he could choose to sit at one, or to continue on to the dormitories, Olivia spoke again.

"Honestly, they should just give him his own table," she said, "Or maybe a feeding trough, like the pig he is."

Portia and the third years guffawed; Calista saw the expression of mingled rage and hurt on George's face, and she was on her feet, slamming the cover of her textbook closed. Beside her, Marcus looked up from the Quidditch diagrams he was drawing.

"Honestly, Olivia," Calista said, matching the blonde girl's unnecessarily loud tone, "Will you just ask him out already? It's obvious you're obsessed with him."

Olivia's face turned pink. "I - that's ridiculous," she said, snottily, "As if  _I_  would ever -"

"Well, let's see, you're always trying to catch his eye, and you have to talk to him every time you see him - except I guess you're too shy to tell him how you feel, so you just have to go with whatever comes out of your mouth first, which, you know, since it's you, is always a load of nasty rubbish."

A few students were laughing, and it didn't seem as though all of them were laughing at George anymore.

"This isn't any of your business,  _Snapelet_ ," Olivia hissed. "Unless  _you're_  the one that fancies Fat Spratt, one ugly boyfriend isn't enough for you -"

"Hey!" Marcus said, half-rising from his chair, with a scowl on his face. Calista stepped away from the table, back straight, and faced Olivia.

"Oh, no, I'm not like you," she said, "I wouldn't try and steal the boy that someone else likes - funny, by the way, that you tried to steal Marcus if you think he's so ugly."

Olivia's eyes narrowed. "Shut up,  _Snapelet_."

"I don't think I will,  _Gamplet_."

"That's  _not_  my name!" Olivia screeched; the common room had gone quiet now, and nearly everyone in it was watching what was going on. George glanced between the two girls, and then slipped quietly away towards the dormitories, evidently taking advantage of the distraction to get away.

"And that's really the best you can do?" Calista challenged, "Calling everyone you don't like ugly? That's really creative. Thing is, though, there are worse things to be -"

"Shut  _up_ , you little freak."

"A liar, that's worse than ugly, and you're definitely one of those. I won't tell everyone what you've been lying  _about_ -"

Olivia drew her wand, and she had it pointed at Calista; but Calista had hers out, too, just as quickly. Marcus rose, and hovered protectively near Calista. Portia adopted the same position over Olivia.

"Please, both of you, calm down -" Emily began, but Olivia and Calista shot her identical glares.

"I'll turn you into the bloody cow you are," Olivia threatened, and then - "Maybe Fat Spratt will eat you."

"We both know which one of is going to win, if this turns into a duel," Calista said, with the confidence of her secret Dark Arts lessons behind her, giving her voice a quiet sort of strength. "I'd rather stay out of detention though, so please don't make me send your guts flying across the room."

Well, if it came to it, she wasn't going to use that curse, but she doubted anyone would call her bluff.

They didn't. Olivia blanched; Calista could see her wand arm tremble, just a bit.

"You're not worth it," Olivia said, finally, lowering her wand. Calista followed suit, though she kept her fingers wrapped tightly around it, in case Olivia changed her mind.

"Hex her, Calista."

The plea came quietly; just as the situation might have dissipated. Calista looked in the direction of the words. It was Daisy who had spoken, George's sister, and one of the new first years that Calista was sort of watching out for. There was a quiet sort of intensity on Daisy's normally pleasant face that gave Calista pause.

"I'm not going to," Calista said, "Unless she gives me a reason to."

"She gives plenty of reasons, every day," Daisy said, and there was a reckless air to her words now; she glanced at Olivia, and when the older girl returned her glance with an icy sort of glare, Daisy flinched.

"This has nothing to do with  _you_ ," Olivia told Daisy coolly, "Get out of my sight, or I'll turn  _you_  into a cow - look, you're halfway there already."

Daisy looked crushed; a few first and second year boys tittered.

"You're a bitch," Calista said, matter-of-factly to Olivia, "And I'm tired of it. Leave Daisy alone, and leave George alone, and actually, just leave everyone alone, because I'm done letting you get away with it."

"I very well might be a bitch," Olivia said, and Calista should have known by the smug satisfaction on her voice that something awful was coming, "But it's better than being an ickle crybaby, like your piggy little friend over here… oh, but crybabies stick together, don't they? Do all your piggy, mudblood little friends know that you cry when you have bad dreams? Does your  _boyfriend_  know, that ickle Calista is afraid of the dark?"

Calista felt rage bubbling up within her; she knew her fingers were still curled around her wand, but she didn't know if she was going to hex Olivia, or punch her again… She felt herself stepping forward, heard a rushing in her ears that blocked out the sounds of the common room around her, for a couple of seconds. She didn't know if anyone was laughing, if Olivia was still talking, still running her big, prissy mouth…

Things happened a in a blur, and when the rushing faded from her ears and she could focus on the room around her, Marcus was standing in front of her, blocking Olivia from her view. He was facing her, with his hands strong on her upper arms, holding her firmly from whatever hex or blow she had been about to throw.

"Calista, calm down. It's all right, no one cares what she says, she's a bitch, like you said -" His voice was steady, quiet.

"I hate her -"

"Yeah, I know," he said, remarkably calm.

"I can't let her get away -"

"She's not getting away with it, Calista. Endria's reporting her, look - I'll let you go, just don't hex Olivia or anything, or Endria'll have to report you, too."

Marcus eased his hands off of her, and shifted so she could see over his shoulder, though he kept his hands hovering in the air between them, so he could hold her back again at a moment's notice.

She looked beyond him; Endria was indeed lecturing a very sour-looking Olivia, and demanding that she accompany her to the Head of House's office, now.

" _She's_  the one that should be in trouble," Olivia protested, and Calista could see Portia nodding vehemently behind her.

"Not the way I saw it," Endria said, "I saw you raising your wand, and I've got a roomful of witnesses saying you started it, by picking on the Spratts."

"She was - she was going to curse me! Didn't you see her?"

Endria glanced back at Calista, who was more or less in control of her rage, and still mostly hidden behind Marcus, anyway.

"She doesn't look ready to hex anyone to me," Endria said. Calista realised that her wand was still in her hand, but it hung limply at her side, the side that was concealed by Marcus' hulking form.

"It's not  _fair_ ," Olivia wailed, "You can't send me to Snape, of course he'll take  _her_  side!"

"You should have thought of that before you decided to start trouble," Endria said, firmly. "And in your own House - come on, that's just bad, Avril. You should be standing up for your housemates, not calling them names."

Endria glanced around the common room. "Anyone else want to come, as a witness? I only saw the end of the whole thing."

There was a brief silence, during which Emily quailed, and Portia stepped forward.

" _I_  will," she said.

"I don't think so," Endria said, "Not you, and not Calista or Marcus, either. Someone  _neutral_ , please."

Daisy stood up, jutting her chin out with determination. Calista could see, even from a distance, that she was nervous.

"I'll go," she said, quietly.

"Right, then," Endria said, "Let's go."

Calista watched them leave, Daisy tentatively, and Olivia with a dangerous sort of glower. The look she cast Calista on her way out was venomous; but it didn't matter. She was the one in trouble, not Calista, for once.

When Endria, Olivia, and Daisy left, the room returned to its usual low buzz of activity, and students slowly returned to whatever they had been doing before.

Calista looked up at Marcus, afraid of what she might see in his face, after Olivia's announcement. Would  _he_  think she was an ickle crybaby now, like Olivia had accused her of being?

"You all right?" Marcus asked, with only a gentle, casual sort of concern. Still, she felt herself flushing, had to consciously resist scowling.

"Yeah, of course I am."

Marcus nodded. "So I know you would have flattened her," he said, "But I saw Endria coming in, and I just didn't want you to get in trouble. That's why I stopped you."

"Yeah," Calista said, on the verge of feeling relieved; maybe he hadn't even noticed what Olivia had said. He certainly didn't seem to be treating her any differently than normal.

"I just… you know, I don't want to seem like I thought you couldn't fight her, you know, if you wanted to. I know you could; I just thought, with a Prefect around, probably not the best time to prove it."

She allowed a small, nearly sincere laugh.

"Yeah, I guess logically that's pretty sound," she said, "I'm not cross with you or anything… I - thanks. You know for keeping me out of trouble, and all."

"Sure." He grinned, and put his hands on her sides again, but in a completely different capacity, flirtatious rather than restraining. "You know, my dad says girls hate it when you say this, but you look  _really_  cute when you're angry. I mean, as long as it's not at me."

"Why do girls hate that?"

Marcus shrugged. "No idea - wait, you mean you don't?"

She considered. "Well, it's not the  _worst_  thing."

"I think I should just stay with what I thought before," Marcus said, "Whatever 'girls' think, you're the opposite. It's… it's actually pretty great."

"Well," Calista said, and she wondered when she had learned how to flirt, "I think you're actually pretty great."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

For the next couple of Occlumency lessons, Severus had her practise creating and repairing rifts in her internal barriers, over and over again. He hoped it would become enough of a habit that she could do it unconsciously, perhaps even in her dreams.

He wouldn't tell her directly, but he was increasingly concerned that Bellatrix would manage to cause her to recover, somehow, the contents of the memory that were locked safely in the Headmaster's office. It was clear that was Bellatrix's goal; why else would Calista have dreamt of forget-me-nots, and of venomous aconite?

It was an uncomfortable thought, not only because the recovery of that memory would only make Calista more vulnerable to Bellatrix's attacks, but also because he was reminded that he probably couldn't keep the memory from her much longer. The more time he allowed to lapse, the more difficult it would be for her mind to re-assimilate the memory. and the burden of that difficulty was growing close to outweighing the potential damage the memory itself could cause her.

Truthfully, he knew he should return the memory to her as soon as she was capable of dealing with it, without letting it overpower her… and that day, the day when she would be strong enough to relegate it to the fabric of her mind without it tearing it apart - that day, if it had not approached already, was quite close, and he knew it.

She was making it painfully, abundantly clear that she wasn't much of a child, anymore; and it wasn't just the superficial things, the fact that she was smitten with that Flint boy, or that she was nearly as tall as he, Severus, was now. She was maturing at an alarming rate, and he couldn't quite decide if he felt wistful or proud because of it. Perhaps a little bit of both.

If he had been hoping to deny her gradually newfound maturity, the Slytherin Prefect, Miss Folland, hadn't helped. she'd brought the Avril girl, and a first year, Miss Spratt, to his office the other night, with a tale that - depending on which version he chose to believe - either made Calista a terrible bully or… well, a bit of a hero.

If he were being perfectly honest, he was predisposed to discredit the Avril girl, but he let her speak, anyway, and then he heard the story from the Prefect's point of view, and from Miss Spratt's, and by the time it was finished, he had more or less determined the truth of the story, which had landed the Avril girl in detention.

In truth, the matter made him question his own maturity, because when he had heard it all, he elected to have the Avril brat sort a shipment of flobberworms  _and_  a shipment of toad entrails, and he awarded Daisy Spratt five house points for her honesty in coming forward. He nearly convinced himself that it  _wasn't_  only because Miss Spratt's version of events painted Calista in a very positive light.

So it seemed that not only was Calista defending her classmates against the Avril girl's bullying, but she had managed to do it without getting  _herself_  a detention along the way. He had some idea that a lot of the younger Slytherin girls looked up to Calista; now he was beginning to understand why.

After she left her Saturday morning lesson a couple of weeks after the holidays, Severus recalled the letter she'd given him for Christmas. He hadn't opened it, yet; but he hoped, now, that reading it would give him some sign that he was wrong, that she wasn't quite as grown up as he was beginning to fear, that he could postpone the return of her most painful memory indefinitely.

He opened his desk drawer, and withdrew the sealed letter from where he had been keeping it, next to the drawing from last year. It unfolded longer than he expected it to, and the page was filled with more of her scrawling, messy writing than he had seen since he asked her to copy five hundred lines, years ago:

_Dad -_

_I know I told you I was sorry for hiding the truth from you, about Marcus. I guess at first I wasn't sure exactly what I was feeling, and then I was embarrassed, and then it just seemed easier to keep it secret than to explain it all to you. At the time, that made sense to me._

_The thing is, I was wrong. It was embarrassing to tell you about everything, but then afterwards, I was so glad that we could go back to normal again. It made me realise how much I hate not being honest with you - it makes me feel awful, and not just because I feel guilty about lying to you, but also because there's something comforting about knowing that I don't have to try and hide anything from you. It's something I learned a couple of years ago, but then I guess I forgot, for awhile._

_It's nice, knowing that you know me so well, better than anyone, and that you still care about me, still love me, even when I haven't always deserved it. I guess there's still part of me that thinks that should be impossible. I wonder if you realise, though, that I know you pretty well, too. Maybe better than anyone does._

_I know it was hard for you, to find out you had a daughter, but all this stuff had already happened, and you couldn't take any of it back… especially since we talked, and you told me how young you were, not much older than me now. I know you would have done everything, to keep her from hurting me, if you could have. I know it hurts you, that you couldn't. And I know that you're afraid I won't always need you, when I grow up._

_You said I'm only going to keep getting stronger, and I hope that's true, because so far, I don't always feel very strong. I still have nightmares and bad memories that make me feel like I'm small and helpless again, and sometimes when I remember something else, I cry even though I don't want to. I hate that, because I've never seen you cry, and every time I do it I feel like a baby. Ever since I came to live with you, I just wanted to be like you, strong and clever and wise, but sometimes I don't feel like I'm any of those things, so I'm glad that you at least think I am._

_The thing is, though, even on the days when I know I'm being strong or clever, I'm not really doing it by myself. I feel braver when I know you're not far away, and I get the courage to do the things I know I should when I think they might make you proud. So maybe I don't need you to stay with me after I have a bad dream anymore, and maybe some day I won't need you to teach me any more about Occlumency, but I still need to know that I could ask you for those things, and you'd be there. I still need to know that if I mess something up really bad, or if I get hurt or frightened, you're the one I can cry in front of and still feel like myself the next day._

_I hate writing all this stuff, admitting that I'm not invincible, even though of course I'm not… but even more than that, I hate the idea of you thinking I might not need you, now or ever. Of course I do. I always will._

_I love you, Dad. Happy Christmas._

_\- Calista_

_PS: It's going to be a miracle if I actually give this to you instead of burning it. If you end up reading this, you definitely better take me into the forest soon, because writing this was way more difficult than fighting anything in there would be._

When Severus reached the end of the letter, he had realised two things simultaneously. The first of those things was that Calista was every bit as mature as he feared, and more besides. The second was that his eyes were blurred, and even though he wanted to be as stoic as Calista thought he was, something in his gut twisted and stirred, and he knew, somehow, that his daughter's words, the uneven scrawl of her words across those pages, would never leave him, not as long as he lived.

He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision; if she had been here while he read her letter, she would have seen him very close to tears, for the first time in nearly as long as he could remember; but he  _was_  Severus Snape, so he would not succumb to them, though he didn't hold it against Calista when she did.

He folded the letter carefully, and he withdrew the framed picture from his drawer. He opened the back of the picture's frame, and tucked the letter carefully behind the drawing. Then he closed the frame back up, and no one but himself would ever notice the slight gap between the backing and the glass, the evidence of Calista's heartfelt words.

He stood, and carried the picture, frame and devastatingly honest letter and all, into his quarters, where he hung it reverently above the kitchen table; the table where, once, he had heard her speak for the first time, the table where he had observed her transform, over the years, from a frightened, jaded child into the young woman who had written the letter behind the frame. The table over which she had become, not only his daughter, but his child, in the truest sense of the word.

He wondered, not for the first time, how  _he_ , Severus Snape, had managed not only to become a parent, but evidently, to become a  _good_  parent, at least in his daughter's eyes, and really, did anyone else's opinion matter, in this instance?

But there was a darkness that needled at the edges of his thoughts: would she  _still_  think he was a good father to her, when he had to return her most painful memory to her? Would she be angrier that he had kept it from her, or that he had to return it to her?

He suspected he was going to find out sooner than he liked.


	9. Chapter 9

The second week in January, Calista finally had a breakthrough of sorts in Transfiguration class, though it was nothing like as dramatic as she had always envisioned it would be; not even as dramatic as her first successful unassisted transfiguration over the summer, after her father had entered her mind and sorted out the tangled threads that had been contributing to her problem.

She wasn't even in her remedial lesson, but in her regular Transfiguration class. She had been growing increasingly aware of the imperative Professor McGonagall had given her at the end of last year; this was her final year to try and catch up to her classmates, before she would be held back from advancing to fifth year Transfiguration.

Even though it irked her, she knew it made sense for Professor McGonagall to hold her back from taking her O.W.L. examinations if she wasn't ready for them, but still, knowing it didn't make the potential shame of  _that_  possibility burn any less.

She followed along in her regular lessons, though she didn't expect to make much progress, not when she was just beginning to cover fourth-year spells in her tutoring sessions with Percy. She had to admit, she had done much better in those sessions since Percy had begun behaving like a little professor himself, pushing her through her lessons with the same rigidity and lack of humour that McGonagall herself offered. She still wasn't nearly caught up, but she had been progressing at a greater pace this year than ever before.

On a cold January day, when watery, wispy little snowflakes listed by through the paned glass of the classroom windows, Calista made her usual half-hearted attempt to imitate McGonagall's wandwork, along with the rest of the class. She murmured the incantation, aiming her wand at the guinea fowl that was frozen on the desk in front of her -

\- And it  _changed_ , obediently, into a guinea pig, which was the intended effect of the spell.

She blinked, and glanced quickly at the other students around her, to see if one of them had performed the transformation for her, perhaps out of pity or even an attempt to mock her with false hopes; but everyone around her was concentrating on their own spells.

Looking around, she noticed that perhaps half the class had managed the transformation; she looked back at her own desk to ensure she really had done what it appeared as though she had.

"Please raise your hand if you have already managed to perform the spell," Professor McGonagall said, from the front of the classroom; Calista hurriedly changed her own guinea pig back to its original form, while hands around her went up.

What if it  _was_  some sort of cruel joke, or a fluke? She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment when she recalled the way that Professor McGonagall had reacted when Calista hadn't been entirely upfront about the way she'd managed her pencil-to-ruler transfiguration, back in her first year. She wanted to be  _certain_  she'd managed it before she alerted the professor to her success, especially with Olivia gloating three seats over with a plump, shiny-coated guinea pig nosing its way across her desk.

She aimed her wand again, and tried the spell. When nothing happened, her heart sank; it  _had_  been a joke. She tried a third time, setting her jaw firmly.

This time, it worked, again. She glanced around again, but no one was paying any attention to her; slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her hand in the air, as McGonagall approached the row she was sitting in.

"That's good, Mr. Spratt," the professor was saying, "But I think I can still see a few feathers - ah, yes, right there - try it again."

Professor McGonagall's eyes shifted to Calista, and her tentatively raised hand; then they swept down to Calista's desk, where a fat little guinea pig looked up balefully.

"Ah, excellent, Miss Snape," the professor said, and Calista felt a knot in her stomach, and braced herself. Would McGonagall ask her to do it again, to prove that she'd actually managed it herself? What if she couldn't do it again?

But she needn't have worried. "Five points to Slytherin are in order, I think," she said, "I can see you've been applying yourself to your studies." And then, she moved on to the next student, and Calista felt the knot in her gut loosen.

Finally,  _finally_ , Calista felt the first real glimmer of hope that she might actually be able to catch up to her class by the end of the year, and take the O.W.L.-level class with everyone else. She allowed herself a small smile, before reversing the transformation and attempting it, doggedly, again and again.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

One night, Daisy Spratt never showed up for dinner; in itself, this might not have been altogether unusual. After all, Calista had missed dinner herself on more than one occasion, usually on Fridays when she spent time with Marcus after the Slytherin Team's practises. But Daisy had never missed dinner before, that Calista knew of, and then there were the solemn, troubled expressions that her friends, Mildred Bulstrode and Alma Pierce. Even Tabitha Higgs, who was typically upbeat, looked a bit subdued. She could see Tabitha whispering earnestly to Sofia.

"I'll be back in a minute," Calista murmured, to Marcus, and she rose from her seat to slide into an empty one several places down, beside Eva Selwyn, across from Sofia and the first year girls.

"Is something wrong?" Calista asked, "Where's Daisy? Is she sick, or something?"

"She's not sick," Tabitha ventured, glancing at Calista, "She's… well, she's -"

"She doesn't want to come to dinner," Mildred interrupted, harshly, "She won't leave our room. Because of  _her_ ," and Mildred jutted her square chin down the table. "Gretchen Nott, and her horrible friends."

Calista glanced in the direction Mildred had indicated. Gretchen Nott, a pretty, dark-haired first year, was seated at the fringes of Olivia and Portia's group; Portia said something, and Gretchen tittered, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She saw Portia stick her finger to her nose and push, making it look like a pig's nose; the entire clique laughed uproariously.

Calista felt a flash of anger. "By 'horrible friends', I assume you mean Olivia and Portia," she said, "What have they done?"

"Oh, Calista, it's awful," Sofia said, "She - they've just been terrible to her, to poor Daisy, since that argument in the common room."

"They've  _always_  been terrible," Alma said, "It's just, now it's gotten even worse. Gretchen's always been a little twat herself -"

Mildred sniggered at that.

"And now that she realises  _Princess_  over there dislikes Daisy as well, she's made it her mission to make Daisy miserable."

"Hang on," Calista said, "There's - what, five of you in that dorm? You three," and she indicated Mildred, Tabitha, and Alma, "and Daisy, and Gretchen. How bad can Gretchen really be - don't you all stand up for Daisy?"

"Well, of course we do," Tabitha said, and she seemed slightly miffed that Calista had even asked, "But there's only so much we can - I mean,  _we_  don't want to make enemies of a bunch of third and fourth years,  _especially_  not ones that have threatened to turn our whole dorm into farm animals -"

"She threatened  _what_?" Calista's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah," Alma said, "She said she'd make Daisy a pig, and Mildred an ass -"

Mildred scowled.

"And me a chicken," Alma added, "Because of - because of the whole, erm, flying class thing -"

"What flying class thing?" Calista shook her head. "Hang on… it seems like there's a  _lot_  that's been going on…"

Alma flushed, and didn't answer. After a moment, Eva lifted her chin and spoke around Alma.

"She fell off her broom, in flying class," Eva filled Calista in, "And she was afraid to get back on, for a couple of weeks."

Alma ducked her head; Mildred chortled a bit, but tried to hide it under a cough, but no one else reacted to the story.

"So what?" Calista said, finally, "I hated flying, too. I'm no good, either, and I was scared to try… and if Olivia calls  _me_  a chicken, I'll -"

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" Sofia said, "You're a fourth year too, and you're a good duelist, by all the accounts I've heard -"

Well, that was a reputation that had been built mostly on idle threats, rumours she suspected had been planted by Kim Avery, and the fact that Snape was her father. She had never really dueled anyone. Still, she wasn't about to correct Sofia.

"But I'm - I'm lousy at magic, I don't even know any curses," Alma confessed, "Neither does Daisy, or Tabitha -"

"I know curses!" Tabitha insisted, "My brother showed me some. I've just… you know, I've never  _cast_  them."

" _I_  have," Mildred said, loftily. "Eva showed me  _Furnunculus_. Just wait for that little blonde bitch to call  _me_  a chicken…"

"Mildred," Tabitha pointed out, "She already called you an ass. That's just as bad."

Mildred huffed, but didn't say anything else.

"That's what's going on, I think," Sofia continued, once the chatter between the other girls had dropped off again, "Olivia knows she can't bother  _you_  anymore, so she's… well, she's moved on to Daisy, and the rest of the girls whenever they try to defend her."

"And she's got that Nott girl coiled around her finger," Eva observed, "And Nott shares a room with them. You can bet anything they do to try and deter her from bothering Daisy gets right back to Avril and Macnair and the rest of them. I can try to teach the rest of them  _Furnunculus_ , I suppose, but I already got a detention for showing it to Mildred, and I don't particularly fancy another."

"Who gave you detention?" Calista wondered, "Was it my dad?"

"Nah," Eva said, "It was McGonagall. I still don't know who ratted me out, but I hear Avril's one of her favourite students."

"It probably  _was_  her," Calista agreed, "She's gotten  _me_  in trouble often enough. So… so what's wrong with Daisy? Is it just… just the things they're saying, getting to her?"

"Well," Sofia said uneasily, "It's… let's just say it's gotten worse, for poor Daisy. It's not just names anymore, they're… they've started harassing her in other ways, you know? Leaving disgusting things in her bed, hiding her belongings, that sort of thing… I can't… they've been filling me in, and Daisy's told me a bit, but I think you should ask her yourself, if we ever get her to come out of her room. I told them… Calista, I told these girls, weeks ago, they should talk to you about this sort of thing. If  _anyone_  can stop Olivia, it's you…"

"I just -" Calista paused, and glanced down the table. Olivia and her crew were still laughing uproariously, undoubtedly at someone else's expense. Marcus looked absorbed in a conversation with a few of his teammates. She turned her attention back to her friends.

"I've only started really standing up to her," Calista said, unhappily. "You know she was awful to  _me_  for ages - I mean, she still is, really. I… a lot of times, trying to stand up to her has only made things worse. I'm… I'm willing to try to help, but I just - I don't want to make things any worse for any of you by stepping in."

"But you're the only one," Alma said, almost pleadingly, "No one else has  _ever_  stood up to her. I know if  _you_  would talk to Daisy, she'd listen to you - she… well, she really looks up to you, since that night in the common room."

"All right, I'll talk to her," Calista said, "But you - all of you - you should go to my dad, whenever something like this happens. He's your Head of House, I know he'll help you."

"I'm not…" Tabitha blushed. "Some of the things these girls say, there's no  _way_  I'm repeating them to a… to a professor.  _Especially_  not a man."

"Fine, then," Calista said, "Come to  _me_. Or to Sofia, or Eva, and  _they'll_  come to me - right, Sofia?"

She looked between her two friends for confirmation; they both nodded, though Sofia did so far more eagerly than Eva did.

"Don't let those… those  _cows_  get away with it anymore," Calista said, and she could feel a tightness in her chest, a reaction to the unjustness the girls had described to her. She  _knew_  how bad it felt to be bullied by Olivia and her ilk, and these girls - all of them, even Mildred - were all right, they didn't deserve to be treated that way, not any more than Calista herself had.

Kim would have put a stop to all of this, Calista knew. But Kim had graduated, and she wasn't here anymore.

When dinner ended, and Calista rose, Marcus met her outside the door of the Great Hall.

"Hey," he said, and then he looked behind her, taking something in; Calista turned, and saw that the girls were all following behind her; Eva and Sofia, and the first years, Mildred, Tabitha, and Alma. "You, erm… are you going back to the common room?" Marcus wondered, "I was thinking maybe you could help me with my Divination again, y'know, make up some stuff…"

"I… I guess not tonight," Calista said, "I have… there's some stuff I have to do."

Marcus nodded. "S'okay. I'll work on my Quidditch plays instead. Erm… good luck, with whatever you have to do."

"Thanks."

Calista traced a path back to the Slytherin dungeon, with the cluster of girls still at her heels; it was an alien feeling, to be treated as… well, as something of a  _leader_ , all of a sudden. It was one thing to help out each of these girls individually, now and then, but this…

"Erm," she said, when they had reached the corridor to the dormitories, "Maybe we shouldn't  _all_  bombard Daisy at once. Tabitha, can you see if you can get Daisy to come out, and talk to me?"

Tabitha nodded, and slipped into her dormitory, while the other girls drifted back into the common room. The dormitories at Hogwarts had wards, so that only those who were assigned to them could enter them. Calista had heard horror stories about boys who had tried to sneak into girls' dorm rooms and vice versa. She wasn't certain if the same things would happen if she were to try to enter another girls' dormitory for the wrong year, but she wasn't willing to risk finding out, either, not after the grisly tales of permanent scarring Kim and her friends had told her.

After a few minutes, Tabitha stuck her head out into the corridor. "She doesn't want to talk in the common room," she said quietly, "Do you know anywhere else you could go?"

Calista considered. There was the library, but there was no guarantee they would be alone there, and besides, they would be kicked out as soon as their nine o'clock curfew hit. She could bring Daisy down to the Potions classroom, or even her father's office; she knew he wouldn't mind. But Tabitha had made it sound like that might scare Daisy off.

"There's somewhere," Calista finally said, "Tell her to come out, and I'll show her the way."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

In a million years, Calista wouldn't have guessed that she'd use the secret room Tonks had told her about so soon, and she certainly wouldn't have guessed that the first person she'd bring there with her would be first year Daisy Spratt; she supposed she thought that if she ever  _had_  the courage to try and find the room, she'd be bringing Marcus, like Tonks had suggested.

But the way it happened was that she found the correct corridor on the seventh floor, and paced back and forth opposite the correct tapestry, thinking about what she needed.

Daisy eyed her as if she were mad, but Calista ignored her, and kept pacing; nothing happened at first, so she concentrated harder.

 _I need a place Daisy and I can talk, somewhere no one will find us, somewhere she'll feel comfortable telling me what's been going on_.

Suddenly, a door materialised in the wall. Calista grinned; it was  _true_ , it had worked. She grabbed the knob, and ushered Daisy inside, glancing up and down the corridor before slipping inside herself.

The room was small, with - of all things - a big fluffy bed, and a worn, comfortable-looking armchair. There were two nightstands, each with a cute little lamp that looked like a cloud with the sun shining out of it. The walls were light blue, and the bed was covered in soft toys.

"Erm… what is this?" Calista wondered, as Daisy leapt across the room and sat on the bed, clutching the soft toys close to her.

"It's… but this is… this looks just like my  _room_ , at home!" Daisy exclaimed, and even though there shiny patches on her cheeks indicating the recent passage of tears, she managed a bright, pretty smile. "How did you get us  _here_?"

Calista sank into the armchair. "I didn't know that's what I was doing," she said, "I just… I wanted somewhere that you'd feel comfortable, you know, so you'd be able to tell me what's been going on with that Gretchen girl, and Olivia, and all of them."

Daisy nodded, and repositioned herself, taking a stuffed bunny into her lap. "It's funny," she said, "This looks like my rabbit, but - you know, it feels different. I guess this is just… an illusion, or whatever."

"I'm not sure  _what_  it is," Calista admitted, "Someone just told me about this room… how to find it, I mean… I hope it's not like  _this_  all the time."

Could she imagine snogging Marcus in Daisy's childhood bedroom? No, definitely not. She shuddered, because her mind had started to imagine it anyway, and the mental image was decidedly weird. And then there was the fact that the idea of snogging Marcus in  _any_  bedroom felt really embarrassing… no, she'd definitely better think about something else.

"So… so what's been going on, with that Nott girl, and Olivia Avril, and all of them?" Calista asked, after they had both been quiet for a minute.

"She's  _horrible_ , that's what's been going on. They're all horrible."

"Well, I gathered that much," Calista said, a bit testily. "But some of the other girls… well, Sofia was telling me that things are escalating, and she said I should ask you about it."

"Well, you've heard the things they say about me," Daisy said, absently stroking the ears of a toy rabbit in her lap. "They call me a pig, and… and all the same things they say about my brother, so  _he_  can't help me. I mean, he wants to, but…"

"But they'll just be even worse to him," Calista finished.

"Yeah," Daisy said, "And that's what they say is going to happen to  _me_ , too, if I go to a teacher or a Prefect."

"Well, of course they're saying that," Calista said, "because they know they'd be in loads of trouble if you told someone."

"I know," Daisy sniffed, "They'll get detentions, maybe lose some House points. But then  _I'll_  get hexed, and they'll hide my clothes again, and leave dead mice on my pillow, and -"

"Hang on," Calista said, holding up one hand to stop Daisy mid-sentence, "What do you mean, they'll hide your  _clothes_  again?"

The younger girl scowled, and her cheeks turned bright red.

"They… well, it was mostly just Gretchen - when I was in the shower, she snuck in and took my clothes. I was in the washroom for ages, and she was outside the door, saying I had to come out and beg for them back.."

Daisy's eyes filled with tears again, as she recounted the memory. "Sh-she said she had all the boys in our year out there with her. I don't know if it was true or not. I was just… I couldn't come out, I just couldn't. So I … I stayed, almost the whole day, until finally after dinner Mildred managed to sneak a set of  _her_  robes in to me, so I could leave the washroom."

She scrubbed at her cheeks with her hand, while Calista regarded her in horror. She felt her stomach twist. What if Olivia had ever thought to do that to  _her_? Everyone would have seen the scars on her back… would Calista have done the same thing as Daisy, hiding for hours until someone took pity and helped her? Of course she would, there  _was_  no alternative.

"That's  _horrible_ ," Calista said, "She can't - she can't  _do_  things like that."

"But she does.  _They_  do, her and Portia and Olivia," Daisy said, and she was choking back sobs now, "They do things like that to me  _all the time_ , and what am I going to do about it? Tabitha tried to stand up for me once, and Gretchen threatened to tell the whole school she was sleeping with Filch -"

" _What?!_ "

"She's not, obviously," Daisy said, "But people don't care - people would still say things."

"What… what happened that day, when Mildred brought you some robes?" Calista asked, shaking her head as she tried to absorb all of this information. "Did you go to a professor?"

"Of course not!" Daisy said, horrified, "Can you  _imagine_  what that would be like? I'd have to… have to explain the whole thing… oh, I'd just rather not think about it."

"But you can't just let her get  _away_  with things like that," Calista protested.

"It's fine," Daisy said, clutching her rabbit toy again, "I just… I did what she said, eventually, I begged her for my clothes back -"

"You did?" Calista scowled, "I would have cursed her."

"Well, I'm not you, I'm not brave -"

"I'm not  _brave_ , I just won't let someone do that to me."

"Well, I don't have a  _choice_ ," Daisy insisted, "I don't - I'm not very good at magic, and I don't have a teacher that I trust to go to, and I don't even have any  _friends_  that aren't scared of the same people I am. So I just begged her for my clothes back, like she said, and she told me where she hid them - in the stables, they were covered in dung, of course - and I washed them, and now I just shower late at night, when Gretchen's asleep."

"Daisy," Calista said, shaking her head slightly, "This kind of stuff can't keep happening. I'll talk to my father -"

" _Please_ ," Daisy begged, clutching the toy rabbit tightly, "Don't tell him any of - any of the embarrassing things. That's the last thing I need, is professors thinking I'm an ickle baby. It's bad enough I don't do well in class, because I never get any sleep, between getting up to take showers, and… and the dead mice and all of that."

"Dead mice," Calista said, "She really leaves dead mice in your bed, then?"

Daisy nodded miserably. "She puts them right on my pillow, and I have to get rid of it while she's watching. It's just… I know it's not  _really_  that bad, but -"

"Erm," Calista interrupted, "I'd say that's pretty bad. Olivia never… she never did anything like  _that_  to me, even she knew better."

"Well, Olivia and her friends are helping Gretchen," Daisy said, "Because Gretchen always says, if I go to a professor, Olivia will turn me into a… you know, into a pig. And she even said so herself, when you… when you were standing up for my brother. I just...well, if I got Gretchen in trouble, the others would still bother me, maybe they'd bother me even  _more_. And if I had fourth-years ganging up on me all the time, I - I think maybe I would just go home, and give up on being a witch."

"You're not going to give up," Calista said firmly, and she rose from the armchair, to stand over Daisy. "Don't let  _them_  win. Not Gretchen, and not Olivia or Portia, either."

"But  _how_ ," Daisy wondered tearfully, "Can I stop them? Are you… are you going to talk to them? Because they might just be worse to me, even though you aren't a teacher or a Prefect."

Calista set her jaw. "I'm going to talk to my dad," she said, and rolled her eyes when she saw the look on Daisy's face. "Look, I'm a girl too, remember? I  _know_  which things not to tell him."

"But they're only going to get worse, if a professor gets involved." Daisy looked frantic. "I shouldn'tve told you! I thought… I thought you would just hex them, or something. Maybe hit them."

"I want to, and I still might," Calista said, considering, "But I have to at least  _try_  to go about this the right way first, or I'll be the one in detentions."

"I'm afraid to even  _imagine_  what Gretchen might do to me, if she thinks I went to a teacher," Daisy wailed.

"She won't have any clue what's coming until it's too late to retaliate," Calista vowed. "Believe me, Daisy, of anyone in this whole school,  _I_  can keep a secret."

"I did hear that you and Marcus were… uhm, secretly together for a long time before your dad found out," Daisy offered cautiously.

"That's not even the half of it," Calista assured her, "Listen, for now, just pretend we never had this conversation. Try to go back to normal, and just avoid Gretchen. If anything else happens, talk to Sofia or I, if you don't want to go to a Prefect."

Daisy nodded reluctantly, and slipped off the bed, wiping her face again. Her tears had mostly dried up now, though her eyes still looked red and swollen.

"I'll try. I… thanks, Calista. You're - you know, Sofia was right. You're really nice, for a fourth year."

Calista snorted. "Erm… thanks, I think."

Daisy nodded, and then scurried out of the room; Calista sighed, and shook her head, before slipping out of the room a few minutes later, with a careful glance down the corridor in each direction.

What had she gotten herself involved in? This sounded far worse than what she had imagined, worse even than Olivia had ever been to  _her_. What had made Daisy and the others think that  _Calista_ was the best person to go to, when she had only recently managed to get a handle on her own bullying? She was as likely to make  _herself_  a target again as she was to do anything to help the younger girls.

Sure, she knew curses, but what was the use in that when she was forbidden from actually  _using_  them on her classmates? Idle threats and a well-timed bop on the nose would only hold Olivia back for so long, as far as Calista could see it. But then, if Olivia ever did anything to her like Gretchen was doing to Daisy… Calista would take detention every day for the rest of her life over having  _anyone_  see her pale, spindly limbs, and the cruel pattern of scars on her back.

As Calista returned to the Slytherin common room, received with mostly warm greetings, and only a few icy stares from Olivia and her fan club, her eyes locked on, of all people, Emily. The other girl had glanced up from her study table when Calista entered; Calista could see an open textbook, and three lengths of parchment spread out before her. She remembered, in a rush, a conversation she had had with Emily, months ago, in a hushed corner of the corridor.

_You don't have to fit in, because your dad's a professor, and Head of House besides, and if anyone gives you too much trouble, they know who's going to come 'round demanding answers, don't they?_

She had been angry with Emily at the time, had never considered herself the recipient of special treatment… but perhaps it was time to test that theory, once and for all.

"Hi, Emily," Calista said, as she walked past her former friend.

Emily glanced over Calista's shoulder, presumably at Olivia, and then hastily, she returned silently to her schoolwork.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

One chilly evening at the end of January, Calista donned her cloak after dinner, and met her father in his office. There was a smallish wicker basket on his desk, and he appeared to be awaiting her arrival, on his feet with his cloak on.

"You have your wand?" Severus asked, by way of greeting, when she arrived.

"No, I thought I'd just leave it behind, to make it easier for the centaurs to maul me," she said, matter-of-factly, suppressing a roll of her eyes.

"Excellent," Severus said smoothly, "Then why don't you carry that basket, too, to ensure you'll be slower and easier for them to catch."

Now she did roll her eyes, but she reached dutifully for the basket, anyway, and followed him out of his office and down the corridor.

"So, what would your excuse have been to make me carry the basket if I  _hadn't_  said that?" she wondered.

"Ah," Severus said, glancing back at her as they exited the castle into the cool, dark night. "I need both hands free, of course, so that I can easily protect you from attack, should you come under it."

She paused, sliding the basket towards the crook of her elbow, and pulled her hood up; her breath fogged out in a puff in front of her.

"I suppose that sounds good," Calista said, after a moment, "Although, if you really expected me to be attacked, you wouldn't have let me come along, so I'm assuming that fluxweed grows in a relatively  _safe_  part of the forest?"

"Clever girl."

"So," she wondered, "If it's safe, then why haven't you let me come along before this?"

" _Relatively_  safe. You still need to be alert, and keep your senses about you -"

"Dad. I  _know_. Seriously, it's like you think I  _want_  to get myself killed."

"Well," he pointed out, dryly, "You were quite taken, for a period of time, with the notion of swimming with the Giant Squid." He paused, while a smirk slid to Calista's face. " _Do_  you even know how to swim?"

It occurred to Severus that he had never even thought to ask her; and if she hadn't learned before coming to live with him, then she must notknow how, because  _he_  had never taken her swimming.

"Only in theory," Calista said, "But that was  _ages_  ago, that I used to say that."

"It doesn't seem quite so long go to me; and what do you mean, 'only in theory'?"

"Well, I understand how it's supposed to work. I just haven't… you know,  _tested_  the theory firsthand."

Severus turned his head sharply to glance back at her; if it wasn't so dark, he might have registered the remnants of her playful smirk, beneath the shadow of her hood.

"And you expected me to give you permission for a suicide mission, is that correct?"

"Of course you weren't going to give me permission," Calista said, scornfully, "That was the  _point_."

"The point? To annoy me with your constant badgering - "

"Aha, that's my word!" Calista interjected.

Severus ignored her, and pressed on. He sounded, already, mildly petulant, and Calista noted that their evening had only begun; they were just now reaching the edge of the forest. " _And_ ," Severus was saying, "To drive me mad with worry that you would slip away one afternoon and actually attempt what you were asking for… that was the point?"

"Well," Calista said carefully, because she hadn't expected him to sound quite so agitated, and she still had more important things to ask him about than the Giant Squid, "Not… not quite. I mean… yeah, obviously, I wanted to annoy you."

"Well, you accomplished that."

"Dad," she said, rolling her eyes in the dark. She found herself speaking more softly now that they had entered the forest proper, though they still walked along its edge. "I was, like,  _seven_. Of course I wanted to annoy you. But it wasn't… it wasn't just that. It was… well…"

She paused, turning her words over in her mind before they came out; she quickened her pace, to stand right alongside him instead of half a pace behind, and tilted her head up, glancing at him. Even though their conversation had begun as teasing, she sensed that something she'd said had struck a nerve; or perhaps he was simply having a bad day, because his jaw was set rigidly, and his eyes were focused on their path ahead.

Calista nearly stumbled over a root, and returned her attention to the path as well, carefully picking her way across the forest floor. She noticed that her father moved swiftly, confidently, through this part of the forest, as though he had been through it hundreds of times; and perhaps he had.

"Part of me still didn't understand why you were taking care of me," Calista said quietly, and she noticed that he slowed his pace, almost imperceptibly; perhaps so he could hear her over the soft crunch of their feet over the thin crust of frost and fallen leaves. "And I suppose I should have simply been grateful, but… well, I was  _seven_ , like i said, and - and back then, there was still part of me that was convinced that you would give up on me eventually, and I guess I just… if that was going to happen, I wanted it to happen on my terms, instead of on yours."

"I don't know what else I could have done to convince you otherwise," Severus said, and his words were not hostile at all, but, if anything, mildly speculative.

"Probably nothing," Calista admitted, "There was also… I don't know, this sort of  _masochistic_  thing going on in my mind, back then, I guess, because I remember being determined to prove myself right, and make you give up. Whenever I thought I'd gotten close, there was this awful twisted mess of feelings in my head, like I was pleased and… and heartbroken at the same time. I was… well, I was very confused."

Calista swallowed a lump in her throat; she hadn't meant to tell him all of that, had she? She was supposed to be here to talk about Daisy…

"So was I," Severus said, and Calista nearly stopped in her tracks, because it was the  _last_  thing she expected him to admit. Silence stretched between them for a moment, while their footsteps carried them along a little-worn path between branches that were silver-tipped with a combination of frost and moonlight.

"I suppose the words you chose are as apt as any," Severus continued, after the silence had settled, calmingly, into both of their chests. "Pleased, and heartbroken at the same time. And, if I'm being perfectly honest, terrified, because I didn't know the first thing about young children."

Calista felt her heart thump; he had  _never_  been so frank, not so casually, not without a major tragedy just before or behind them. She considered her words, because she didn't want to say the wrong thing, and cause him to regret opening up to her, even this little bit.

"You never seemed frightened at all," Calista said, finally.

"Well," Severus pointed out, wryly, "I believe you were too busy being frightened  _of_  me to notice."

"I never would have guessed," Calista said thoughtfully, as they approached a small clearing; fluxweed waved and swayed gently against a light breeze, touched iridescent by the light of the full moon overhead.

She set the basket down at the edge of the clearing. Severus had stopped walking, and was looking at her. She knew if she met his gaze, his would be intent; but she wasn't ready for that, because she knew herself well enough by now to know that her open emotional state would last only as long as her hands or her feet were moving. She busied herself with inspecting the closest stand of fluxweed.

"I never used to think you  _could_  be frightened," she continued, "You were always so calm… and I remember being afraid of that, too, because everyone who had ever acted that way around me was just waiting to snatch me up, for something… to hurt me, or take me away, or try to pawn me off on some unsuspecting adoptive family…"

"They tried to adopt you out?" Severus asked softly, because he had not known this. What if they had been successful? Would he have kept looking for her, tracked her down, if she had not been at the orphanage any longer when he went? He hadn't even known if she was  _his_. It seemed, in that moment, likely - and horrifying - that he might not have, if he'd had reason to believe that she was being well cared for.

She didn't answer, though, and he watched her sift carefully through the plants, looking for the best, the most robust, specimens. He realised that her hands were trembling, just slightly; he could see them quiver, pale and thin-looking in the strange, ethereal moonlight. He realised, suddenly, what he had to do, if he wanted her to keep talking. He reached for the nearest cluster of fluxweed, and began sifting through the stems, in just the same way she was.

"Well, they wanted to be rid of me, didn't they?" Calista finally said, after both of them were absorbed in their work. "They wanted to dress me up, and comb my hair, and sit me in the playroom with a doll, or something; but that  _calm_ , the way their necks would go stiff and they'd have these big fake smiles plastered on, and only an idiot wouldn't realise they  _wanted_  something; I never let them touch me, when I could help it."

"A doll," Severus mused, remembering the soft toy he had bought her once, a little cat. He didn't know quite what had become of it, but he knew she didn't have it anymore, and had never been particularly enamoured of it. "I'm trying to imagine it, but all I can see is that tattered little book, clutched in your hands."

An expression somewhere between a small smile and a soft smirk flitted across her face; she carefully snapped off a sprig of fluxweed, and placed it in the basket.

"That book was everything I had, back then," Calista said; the breeze lifted briefly, and her words were almost snatched away by the wind. She lifted her hand briefly to her hood, holding it on.

"I don't see you writing in it anymore," Severus said, and as he considered, he realised he didn't see her writing in any sort of book much anymore; when he did see her writing, head bent low, quill roving fluidly across the parchment, it was nearly always homework she was working on, or perhaps a letter, to Narcissa, or one of her friends. He recalled the words of the letter she'd written him for Christmas, imagined her hunched over it, with the same intense concentration she had always had, when she wrote anything.

"I have a lot more, now," she said, simply.

One of their silences took over again, and for several seconds, there was only the gentle hum of the breeze, the soft rustle of the stems of fluxweed as they rooted through them, snapping off the best plants and placing them in the basket. When Severus and Calista approached the basket at the same time, he took the opportunity to reach for one of her thin, white hands. It was cold, from the chill air, because neither of them had thought to wear gloves. He squeezed her hand, briefly, until her dark eyes flicked up towards him, and he could see the glint of them in the moonlight, even beneath her hood.

"So do I," he said, quietly, and then he released her hand.

Again, she smiled briefly, and then the two of them worked in a comfortable, harmonious quiet.

When the basket was full, Severus reached for it, but Calista was faster, sliding it over her forearm again.

"You need your hands free to protect me, remember?" she teased. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and he began to lead the way back along the path they'd come down, her following half a pace behind, again.

They walked for several minutes. A few times, the call of a strange animal would echo in the distance, or a twig would crack a bit too close by for comfort; but nothing leapt out to attack them, and soon, they had reached the forest's edge again, and began to walk across the grounds proper.

"Dad?" Calista ventured, a few steps outside of the forest.

Severus glanced back, over his shoulder; Calista continued.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," she said, "And… and something I want to ask you."

He slowed his pace, shooting a look of concern down at her; but she shook her head quickly, glanced up reassuringly.

"I'm not in trouble," she said, "For once. It's not about me, really. It's about… some of the other girls in Slytherin. The younger ones."

Severus relaxed a bit; or at any rate, his shoulders lost some do their rigidity.

"What is it?" he asked.

"There's been a lot of stuff going on," she said, "Some of the girls are… well, they're being really awful to other girls. Sort of how Olivia and Portia used to be towards me, but a lot worse… although it sounds as if Olivia's still  _part_  of it, anyway."

"If the Avril girl is in need of another detention," Severus said, trying to keep distaste out of his voice, because he was supposed to be neutral, after all, "I'll need you to recount something specific she's done to deserve it."

"Well, it's not only her," Calista said, "There's a whole group of them now, and I guess things have been happening for a while, now, but honestly, I was sort of blind to it, because for once, it wasn't happening to  _me_. But Sofia and the others told me… and I talked to Daisy Spratt, she'd been getting the worst of it. Gretchen Nott's involved with Olivia and Portia now, and she's been harassing Daisy in their dorm room, threatening that things will only get worse if she tells a professor…"

"What sort of things are we discussing?" Severus wanted to know, a carefully controlled edge to his voice, "This is more than simple teasing, I take it?"

"It's… they've been threatening to curse Daisy and her friends, or turn her into a - an animal," she said, "And leaving… leaving dead mice and things on her pillow. And… there's other stuff that i can't tell you, because it's… erm, it's something you could really only tell another girl. But it's all stuff that… stuff that, if they were doing it to me, would have me serving detention every day just to have the satisfaction of hexing the stupid grins off their faces. And you  _know_  I've been trying to stay out of trouble."

"What are you asking me to do do?" Severus asked, "Give the offenders detention? I'll need all of their names, and specific instances to tick them off for. And really, I should be receiving these complaints from Miss Spratt herself."

"Daisy won't come to you," Calista told him, plainly, "She won't go to a Prefect either, because they've sufficiently scared her away from doing it, by threatening to make everything much worse, for her and her friends. She… she doesn't want you to give them detention, because then they'll know she told someone."

"Perhaps Miss Spratt is unaware of how  _unpleasant_  I can make detention?"

"The thing is, Dad," Calista said, and she had considered these words for days before putting them to him, so they would come out effortlessly, with confidence. "Getting in trouble with professors never bothered Olivia much, and it  _did_  make her cross enough to escalate her bullying. The only thing that  _ever_  worked to get Olivia off my case was to stand up to her, and that's what I think these girls,  _especially_  Daisy, need to do."

"Are you suggesting that I turn a blind eye while you teach your friends to hit their tormentors in their respective faces?"

"No," Calista said, and she pushed on recklessly even though he sounded displeased and suspicious with the direction the conversation was headed, "I'm suggesting that you turn a blind eye while I teach them defence hexes."

Severus swept his eyes down and across her half-obscured face; she pushed her hood down, so he could see her expression, see that she was quite serious. He raised his eyebrows, when he took note of it.

"Do I really need to offer my opinion on that idea?" he asked. "I think you can guess what it is."

"I'm not asking permission to teach them  _Levicorpus_  or - or the Fiendfyre Curse, or something," she said, and then when she saw his expression, she continued hastily: "Obviously not Fiendfyre, because I don't even know how to cast it, it was just a random curse I listed,  _honestly_ , I haven't tried it, I promise."

His eyes bored into hers for a second, their progress across the crunchy, white-coated grounds of Hogwarts castle briefly halted; presently, he seemed satisfied that she was telling the truth, and he resumed their now-leisurely pace.

"I just want to teach them basic things, like the Leg-Locker Curse, and Disarming," she began again, "Things they'd learn in Defence Against the Dark Arts anyway, if Professor Thatch would do something besides lecture. Things it wouldn't seem odd for a first-year to know. Loads of other students use spells like that against each other all the time, and no one really cares, unless it disrupts a lesson or something - look, I won't tell anyone you gave me permission to teach them, I'll just say I decided to myself, if anyone asks."

"To which they'll undoubtedly respond that you're using my position to flout school rules without fear of consequence," he replied silkily, but Calista thought that he didn't sound immovably against the idea.

"Then you can give me a detention," Calista said, "Or the professor that catches me can, and I'll serve it. I just can't… Dad, I can't let Daisy and the other girls be treated that way, not right in front of me, not when I  _know_  I could stop it. So either you let me teach them a few basic defence spells, or I'll start hexing those horrible cows myself, and I can't promise  _I_  would stick to basic hexes."

She shouldn't have said it like that, and she knew it the instant the words had flown out of her mouth; but ill-advised or not, they were true. She braced herself for her father's impending lecture, his harsh reminders that he had begun teaching her curses with the explicit instructions that she not use them, unless her life was in danger. All of whatever he said would be true, but it wouldn't irk her any less; what else was she meant to do, in a situation like the one Daisy had presented her with?

" _Locomotor Mortis_  and  _Expelliarmus_ ," Severus said, quietly. "You may teach them those two spells  _only_ , and I expect you to impart to them the necessity to use them only in self defence. If any of the first years are sent to me for discipline for abusing either of those spells, you will serve their punishments alongside them."

Calista blinked; she hardly dared to believe her ears. Had he really agreed so readily to her plan?

"Seriously?" Calista questioned, though she knew it was wiser not to, "You'll let me teach them?"

"You heard what I said," he replied, and then he elaborated slightly, with a glance over his shoulder at her. "Your reasoning is sound, and it seems unlikely that either of those spells will present a dangerous level of difficulty for first-years to learn without the aid of a professor. I am trusting you to keep your word, and honor the conditions I've set."

She shifted the weight of the basket to her other arm; it was much heavier when it was full. "Thanks, Dad," she said, sincerely, "I promise, it will only be those two, and I'll tell them not to start anything. I just... I don't want them to be  _defenceless_ , against the awful things Gretchen and Olivia are doing."

"I will ask the Headmaster to remind the entire school that we will not tolerate bullying at Hogwarts," Severus' lip curled as he said this; an odd expression teased his features, but it was gone before Calista could hope to fully interpret it. "That way, it will not seem as though it is a direct response to what has been going on in Slytherin. I will, however, instruct the Slytherin prefects to increase their vigilance, and report any dangerous or egregious incidents to me immediately. I expect you to do the same."

She nodded. "I will. I've already told Daisy to come to me, if she won't go to you or to a Prefect, and I'll tell the other girls the same thing."

"I must admit," Severus said, as they approached the castle, and he held the heavy, solid wood door open so she could get through with the basket, "I'm pleased with the way you're handling the situation; not least of all the fact that you actually came to me before deciding on your own vigilante course of action."

"And yet somehow, you manage to sound annoyed  _and_ pleased at the same time," she teased, lightly.

"Well, I do have a niggling fear that I'll find out tomorrow that you've already turned someone's kneecaps backwards, or something of the sort."

She grinned. "I  _would_  possibly do that, I suppose; but I haven't. And actually… you can thank Marcus for that, he stopped me the last time Olivia made me lose my temper, because he saw a Prefect coming."

"Ah, then I suppose perhaps the boy is good for  _something_ , after all."

"Dad," Calista prodded, "He's good for a lot of things; he's good  _to_  me."

"Perhaps that's true," Severus said, as they descended a stone flight into the dungeons, "But you're my daughter; it's only natural that I'd prefer him to be good to you from a respectable distance of say… twenty paces."

"Well," she said, " _I_  don't prefer that."

"And  _now_  I wish," Severus said quietly, dryly, as he ushered her into his office, "That you were seven again, and this conversation was about the Giant Squid."

"But you said you were frightened, then."

Severus raised his eyebrows at her, as she set the basket of fluxweed down on his desk.

"And you think I'm not, now?" he asked.

She turned, and met his gaze directly; there were things she might say, but the moment was too intense for her, suddenly, on top of everything else that had been said, and besides, her hands were empty and useless at her sides, now.

"So," she said, instead, "Are you going to let me make Polyjuice Potion with you?"

"Yes."

She blinked. "That's it? Just 'yes'? No warnings that I need to be careful, or that I'm forbidden from attempting it without you?"

"Do you need them?"

"Well, no. But that's never stopped you before."

"Fine. You need to be careful, and you're forbidden from attempting to make the potion without me."

She smiled, easily. "That's better," she said, and then: "It's well after curfew, and the Bloody Baron kind of has it out for me, these days. Can I… can I sleep here, tonight?"

She thought she might have left a nightdress in the bureau in her old room; but even if she hadn't, it wouldn't be the first time she'd slept in her robes.

"You don't need to ask permission; of course you can."

"Maybe we can have breakfast together, before I have to get ready for class?"

"That can be arranged."

"And coffee."

"Of course."

" _I'll_  make that, though. Mine comes out better."

"Yours comes out stronger than an antidote to the Draught of Living Death," Severus said, dryly.

"Yeah. Like I said, better." She smirked. "Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Calista."

She exited his office, through the door that led to his quarters, and tiptoed down the narrow little corridor; but something was off, something was different from the last time she had been here… and then she realised what it was.

There was a soft, gentle light spilling out of the partially open doorway to her old room; when she stepped inside, she saw that it was the product of a very familiar-looking night light, perched matter-of-factly on top of her old bureau, in precisely the same spot she had had one before.

She felt warmth prickling at her eyes, and she supposed some part of her ought to be annoyed, ought to consider the night light's presence an implication that she was still a child; but the truth was, sometimes, in the dark, she still felt like one. She found her nightdress in the bureau, changed into it, and tucked herself comfortably between the covers of her old bed, feeling a similarly warm glow from somewhere within herself.

She closed her eyes, and slept dreamlessly.


	10. Chapter 10

"No, it won't work like that," Calista said, reaching out to adjust Daisy Spratt's grip on her wand; the younger girl had her fingers wrapped limply around it, and she was attempting an incantation with so little conviction that it came out more like a question.

"It won't?" Daisy frowned.

"You have to hold you wand steady," Calista said, "And tightly - but don't squeeze it, you'll make it all sweaty and drop it."

"Okay…" Daisy obediently let Calista rearrange her fingers. "Now what?"

"Now tilt it up like this," Calista said, demonstrating with her own wand, "And say the incantation nice and loud -  _Expelliarmus!_ "

Daisy's wand leapt out of her hand and sailed towards Calista, who caught it neatly. Calista had been careful though, and had not cast forcefully enough to knock Daisy over. She handed the wand back to Daisy.

"Okay, you try it now," she said, even though Daisy had already tried it half a dozen times. Mildred and Alma watched; both of them had already gotten the spell to work, but they had stayed behind to help Daisy.

A few students straggled through the common room on their way down to breakfast, but most of them were still asleep, so Mildred, Alma, Daisy, Calista, and Eva Selwyn had the room more or less to themselves. Calista had elected to teach the first years during early morning hours, when they weren't likely to be bothered or watched.

Sofia and Eva had both volunteered to help Calista tutor the younger girls, though on this particular day, Eva was draped over an armchair, yawning, and Sofia was still in bed. Calista didn't blame either one of them; she wished  _she_  was still in bed, but she'd promised Daisy and the others she'd help them.

"Okay," Daisy said, straightening her shoulders. "Expel - expelliarmus?"

Precisely nothing happened; Calista barely stifled a sigh of exasperation.

"Are you asking us a question, or casting a spell?" Eva wondered, sourly. "At this point, maybe you should just try sticking Gretchen in the eye with your wand."

Daisy blushed. "I'm trying," she said, "It's just - well, it's hard to cast the spell like I mean it when I  _don't_  mean it. It's not Calista I'm cross with."

"All right then," Eva said, slipping off the chair. She stepped up to Daisy, leaned in her face. "Cast it on  _me_. And be quick about it, or I'll poke  _your_  eye."

"Eva, stop -" Daisy protested. Mildred and Alma looked on with interest.

"Sure, I'll stop," Eva said easily, "When you Disarm me. Go on."

Calista frowned, but decided to let Eva continue; who knew? Maybe it would work. Merlin knew it would have worked on her.

"Expa - expelli- _arm_ -us!" Daisy said, her voice rising into a squeak. Her garbled incantation failed to Disarm Eva, who sighed, and slinked back towards her armchair.

"Honestly," Eva said, "This all seems pointless. Let's just give her a knife to defend herself and -"

Calista didn't hear the rest of Eva's words; she shivered, and a roaring sound filled her ears. A sudden sinking feeling was opening up in the pit of her stomach, and she felt an inexplicable ribbon of fear snaking around the edges of her consciousness; but  _why_?

"Calista?"

Calista sucked in a breath of air, and calmed herself with effort. All of the girls, Mildred and Alma and Daisy and Eva, were looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry - what?" Calista stammered, suddenly uncertain.

"Breakfast." Eva said, slowly and distinctly. Calista got the feeling that it wasn't the first time she'd said it. "Let's come back to this another time."

"Oh," Calista said, nodding. "Erm… yeah. Let's."

What the hell had that been about?

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The second half of term, after the holidays, always seemed to sneak up on Calista, overwhelming her with an increased load of classwork, studying, and - usually - torment at the hands of Olivia and her cronies.

For once, she didn't really have to worry about the latter, but she had enough schoolwork and studying to make up for it. This year's exams were her last chance to prove to McGonagall that she could keep up with the rest of her class in Transfiguration; if she couldn't, McGonagall had already told her that she wouldn't be able to move up to the O.W.L.-level class with her peers.

She was in the library with Amelia, working on a particularly complex chart for Arithmancy, when Marcus sidled in, evidently looking for her. She glanced up, and felt immediately guilty; she had been so busy, in fact, that she'd hardly spent any time with him that  _wasn't_  occupied by studying - and perhaps just a bit of snogging - in a couple of weeks.

"Hey," Marcus said, sliding into the seat beside her at the study table she shared with Amelia. He glanced at Amelia and nodded, neither friendly or unfriendly. He was still wary with most of Calista's non-Slytherin friends.

"Hey," Calista said back, holding her spot on the chart she was working on with her index finger. She looked up at him, and even though she'd been his girlfriend for a little while now, she  _still_  noticed how nice he looked, and it made her stomach flutter.

"You doing Arithmancy again?" Marcus asked, and even though she knew he was teasing, Calista scowled.

"Yeah," she said, "We are. Something wrong with that?"

"Nah, s'pose not." Marcus fidgeted, and glanced down at Calista's chart. "Wow. That looks really complicated."

"We're not even halfway done," Amelia volunteered, "It's going to be even  _more_  complicated before we're done - look, we haven't even started charting the planetary orbits yet -"

Marcus frowned, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Planetary orbits? Hang on - I thought this was Arith-whatsis, not Astronomy?"

"It  _is_  Arithmancy," Calista said, "There's some overlap, with Astronomy and Ancient Runes, and -"

"Everything," Amelia cheerfully supplied. "Most complicated bloody class there is, I'm telling you."

"Er," Marcus frowned. "Why d'you take it, then?"

"It's interesting," Calista said, and Amelia offered up a sly grin, first at Calista, and then she let it flick towards Marcus for an instant.

"Besides," Amelia said, "We can't drop it - we'd lose."

"Huh?" Marcus' brow furrowed.

"Yeah, it's kind of a game," Amelia said, "We make bets on who will drop the class, and it's sort of a point of pride to make it through 'til the end.  _Especially_  if you manage to make it into the NEWT-level class. Which Calista and I will, obviously."

She puffed up a bit with pride, and looked to Calista for confirmation; Calista was already frowning at her chart again, muttering something under her breath and consulting the index of the textbook. The assignment was due in a couple of days, and there was a lot more she still needed to add to her chart.

"Yeah… I bet," Marcus said, a bit uncomfortably. He fidgeted again, while Calista and Amelia went back to work.

Calista couldn't concentrate though; not with Marcus so close to shuffled his feet, sidling even closer, and she could feel his eyes on her. It made her blush, and when she glanced up at him and he was watching her just as intently as it felt like he was, it made her blush even more.

Damn it. Would she  _ever_  get used to being so close to him? She was fine, most of the time, but whenever they were touching, or close enough to touch, the familiar flush of heat crept into her cheeks and her forehead. For the umpteenth time, she internally chided herself for being such a  _girl_.

"What did you get for the sixth differential of Venus?" Amelia asked, suddenly.

"Uhm." Calista blinked, and shook her head. Marcus was sitting so close to her that she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin; how in Merlin's name was she supposed to concentrate on homework?  _This_  was why she had taken to studying almost exclusively in the library ever since they'd officially become a couple.

Amelia was looking at her now, eyebrows raised.

"Hellooooo?" she said, drawing the second syllable out, "Calista? What did you get for the sixth differential of -"

"Uhm," Calista said again, hurriedly leaning over the parchment, scanning over what she had written. "I got, erm -"

Marcus leaned over, too. She could feel the warmth of his breath now as well, near the exposed side of her neck. Why was he doing that? He didn't care about her Arithmancy charts, she knew that.

"Marcus," Calista said.

"You got 'Marcus' for your differential?" Amelia echoed; half-playful and half-annoyed.

" _No_ ," Calista said, scowling. She cut a glance at Marcus. "What do you  _want_?" she snarled, because she felt embarrassed and it seemed preferable to come across as annoyed.

"Erm…" Marcus pulled back slightly; he blinked, uncertain. "I wanted… well, I thought  _you_  would want…"

Calista tried to soften her expression without much success, and waited for him to finish. Amelia smirked, amused. Marcus shook his head, and tried again.

"Thursday's Valentine's Day," Marcus said, finally, "And we have Hogsmeade coming up on Saturday. I thought… well, I'm supposed to take you on a date, right?"

"Uhm." Calista felt her cheeks grow hotter. "I don't know. You don't have to."

Marcus shook his head doggedly. "My Dad says I do. All the guys on the team say I do. Endria told me there's this place in Hogsmeade that people always go… some stup-er, some tea shop. We're supposed to go there."

"We are?"

"Yeah," Marcus said, "I mean - I think we are. If that's… if you want to go with me, I mean."

Calista wrinkled her nose, puzzling it out. It did sound logical, didn't it? If you were with someone on Valentine's Day, you went out to a tea shop with them, even if you didn't really care for tea.

"Okay," she said, "I guess that makes sense."

Marcus looked relieved. "Good. I'll… erm, I'll wait for you in the common room on Saturday morning, then?"

"Yeah, okay."

Marcus stood up, and Calista felt her cheeks begin to cool, presumably returning to a normal colour.

"See you at dinner, then?" Marcus said.

Calista nodded, and Marcus started to walk away. Calista leaned over her parchment again, hoping the complex charts would wrap her mind in logic and numbers, and that Amelia wouldn't tease her. But then she realised that she didn't know -

"Wait." Calista said, her head popping up again, just as Marcus reached the doorway of the library. Marcus paused obediently.

"Erm… am I supposed to… I mean, do I have to wear dress robes?" She hoped not.

Marcus cocked his head. "I dunno...Probably. I mean, I could ask Endria…"

Calista scowled. No way did she want pretty, elegant Endria to find out that Calista didn't know what she was supposed to wear on a date, or even that she was  _supposed_  to go on a date for Valentine's Day.

"Never mind," she said, "I'll… I'll figure it out."

"Okay." Marcus looked relieved again. "See ya, then." He slipped away, probably before Calista could ask him any more questions about clothing.

As soon as he was gone, Amelia let out a snort of laughter.

"Honestly, Calista," she said, gasping. "It's lucky  _both_  of you are completely clueless. I can't believe you two managed to end up in a relationship."

Calista narrowed her eyes. "Oh, so you're the expert, then?"

"You don't have to be an  _expert_  to know you're just supposed to say 'yes' when someone asks you on a date, not 'you don't have to'."

"Well, he doesn't have to," Calista said, defensively.

"Okay, but he's  _supposed_  to, on Valentine's Day," Amelia said, "At least one of you realised that much."

"All right," Calista snarled, "If you know everything, then what am I supposed to wear?"

"Dress robes," Amelia confirmed, setting her quill down and regarding Calista seriously. "And cosmetics."

"Ugh, no way," Calista interjected. "I  _hate_  that stuff - besides, I don't even know how to do it right, my aunt does it for me when she makes me wear it."

"But think of it like this," Amelia said, "All the  _other_  girls that have dates are going to be there, and  _they're_  going to be wearing cosmetics."

"So?"

"So don't you want to look better than them, so Marcus won't want to look at anyone else?"

Calista's scowl deepened. "I don't need cosmetics to cast  _Furnunculus_  on the other girls, do I?"

Amelia grinned. "All right, that's a good backup plan. But what if there's a professor in there?"

Calista's jaw dropped with horror. "Oh no - do professors go to this stup- this tea shop, too? What if my  _dad's_  in there? I don't want him to see me on a - on a  _date_!"

Amelia snorted again. "You've never been to Madam Puddifoot's, have you? I went in there with Penny once, and  _trust me_ , there's no way Sn - ehm, your dad - would be caught dead in there."

"Okay." Calista exhaled. "What else do I need to do? Besides that stupid stuff that I am  _not_  going to put on my face?"

"Well," Amelia tilted her head thoughtfully, "You should probably get Marcus a gift."

"A gift? Like a Christmas gift, or something?"

"Well, yeah," Amelia said, "Except, you know, instead of 'Happy Christmas' you write something like, 'Be mine' or 'Hugs and Kisses'."

Calista made a sour face. "Eugh. Is there anything you can write that  _doesn't_  sound vomit-inducing?"

Amelia grinned mischievously. "'You're my one true love'," she suggested, "'I can't live without you, my darling puffskein'. 'Let's snog the pants off each other - literally'"

" _Ew_ ," Calista said, emphatically. "Forget it. I don't want to do this whole Valentine thing anymore. I think I'll just stay in bed until it's over."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Before Calista could even worry about her first date, she had to get through Valentine's Day itself, which seemed daunting when she vaguely recalled from previous years that students sent each other cards, and sometimes chocolates and flowers. She felt panicked inside when she realised she had no idea if she was supposed to do  _that_  now, too.

Amelia was fairly certain that going on a date with Marcus a few days after the holiday would suffice, and she wouldn't need to send him a Valentine, but Calista had ended up writing to her Aunt Narcissa to make certain.

She'd gotten a reply on Wednesday, the day before Valentine's Day.

_Dear Calista,_

_I'm so pleased to hear that your young man is taking you on a proper date for Valentine's Day. Lucius and I went to Madam Puddifoot's several times; it's a tradition for young couples at Hogwarts, and I'm certain you'll have a nice time. Even if you don't, though, you must pretend. If he thinks you don't like the venue, he might think you don't like him, so be on your best behavior and try not to scowl too much, darling._

_Be sure to wear dress robes - didn't I get you a nice pink set for Christmas? Those will do nicely, or if you won't wear pink (I know you, dear), try the pale blue ones with the lace. Don't wear the yellow, as he's already seen you in those._

_Match your eyeshadow to your robes, and use the soft grey eyeliner and a touch of mascara - no lipstick, it will come off on your teacup. Dab on some of that lovely perfume I got you for Christmas last year, and wear your hair down, it's quite becoming that way._

_You're still quite young, and you and Marcus have not been together for very long, so you may send him a card, perhaps with a short verse written on it, but nothing more. He may give you chocolates or flowers, or perhaps just a card as well._

_Have a wonderful Valentine's Day, darling - please write and let me know how it went!_

_Your Loving Aunt,_

_Narcissa_

If nothing else, it was a relief that she  _wasn't_  meant to get him a gift; she had a difficult enough time figuring out what to get him for Christmas, and didn't relish having to deal with  _two_  gift-giving holidays. She secretly hoped that no one told Marcus he was supposed to get her flowers; what would she  _do_  with them?

Calista had decided to follow her aunt's advice and give Marcus a card. Sofia had a stack of coloured notecards that she was making valentines from - Calista decided not to ask why she needed so many, but gratefully accepted a plain white one.

She made the mistake of asking Amelia for ideas regarding what sort of verse she should put on the card, and by the time her friend had finished 'helping', Calista was blushing furiously and was about ready to resort to her earlier plan of sleeping through the whole bloody holiday.

She tried to think of something herself, but everything she came up with sounded stupid to her; in the end, she decided to draw him a picture on the notecard instead. She drew him walking off the edge of the Quidditch pitch, broomstick in hand, and herself going out to meet him, ponytail streaming behind her, so it looked like she was hurrying.

She eyed the sketch. It wasn't bad, although she wasn't sure if it was enough for a Valentine. She scrawled a small heart on it, in between their two heads, and then she scowled. Now it looked  _too_  Valentine-y, didn't it? She nearly tore it up, but then she recalled that she had only borrowed one notecard from Sofia, so she was stuck with what she had. She stuck it inside the front cover of her nearest textbook, so at least it would be out of sight until she had to give it to him.

On Valentine's Day, she brought her textbooks to breakfast with her, so she could keep the Valentine hidden - imagine if Olivia or someone got hold of it? She decided that she would only give it to Marcus if he gave her a card first; that way, there was still a chance that she wouldn't have to give him something with a  _heart_  on it; it was dreadfully  _girly_ , after all.

She wondered if she was meant to sit with Marcus at breakfast, since it was Valentine's Day, but when she arrived he was sandwiched between the Slytherin beaters, so she sat with Eva and Sofia instead.

She glanced around the table, and noticed that a few girls, mostly the older ones, had flowers; how had she never noticed this before? Still, it was only a few, so it didn't seem like  _everyone_  got into this Valentine junk. It would probably be fine if she and Marcus just waited until their date. Calista breathed a sigh of relief and reached for some bacon.

Nearly as soon as she had done so, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and looked up to see Marcus - and, as if he had read her mind and decided to do precisely the opposite of what she wanted, he was holding out a large yellow flower - some variety of lily, by the looks of it.

She felt colour rising in her cheeks; Marcus leaned close over her, and spoke in a low voice.

"I know I'm supposed to get roses," he said, and Calista could see him start to blush a little, too. "But I saw this one and it reminded me - erm, it reminded me of how pretty you looked on Christmas, so I figured it would be okay."

Calista felt frozen, uncertain how she was supposed to react; were people watching them? She was afraid to look. She knew he was being quite sweet, knew that she should simply take the flower, and smile at him, and get on with her day, but somehow she felt incredibly awkward - why couldn't she just be  _normal_  about the whole thing?

And then Sofia, wonderful Sofia took over.

"Oh, how nice!" she squealed, "You're so lucky, Calista. Here, let's put it in your hair - it will look so pretty!"

Sofia took the flower, and Calista felt a tug somewhere near where she had fastened her ponytail that morning - she managed, with effort, not to flinch - and then both Sofia and Marcus were beaming at her. Calista reached her fingers up tentatively, and felt soft petals; Sofia must have fastened it to her ponytail somehow.

"Erm… thanks," she said, and she wasn't even sure which of them she was speaking to; then she remembered, and hastily grabbed the Valentine card from inside her textbook, and held it out to Marcus. "This is… erm, this is for you."

"Thanks," he said, glancing at the card and offering his trademark grin. She couldn't help but smile back; her stomach fluttered. Maybe Valentine's Day wouldn't be that bad after all.

Then she chanced a glance up at the staff table, and felt her ears go as red as her cheeks. Her father's gaze was unmistakably fixed on the Slytherin table - Calista wondered wildly if he would be cross, even though he had reluctantly allowed their relationship; but he didn't look angry, exactly. She frowned, uncertainly, not quite able to read his expression from this distance. It may not have been angry, but it wasn't pleasant, whatever it was.

"So… so I was thinking," Marcus said, and she shifted her gaze away from her father to look back at him, "Maybe we can go flying later, before dinner."

Calista had been planning on studying in between classes and dinner; she had to practise cross-species switches a lot more before she could hope to pass the section on her year-end exams. She hesitated.

"We can fly upside-down," he teased.

"Absolutely not."

Marcus shrugged, and grinned. "One of these days, you're bound to say yes, right?"

"Again, absolutely not."

"We'll see. Anyway, you know I won't go upside-down unless you say so… but I like flying with you. What's your reason not to go? Homework?"

"No," she said defensively.

"Okay, then,  _studying_?"

"Erm… maybe."

He shook his head, good-naturedly. "You're not studying today, unless you can do it from a broomstick. I'll meet you in the Quidditch pitch at four-thirty, yeah?"

Well, it  _was_  Valentine's Day.

"Okay," she relented, "But we're  _not_ going upside-down."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

After dinner, Calista returned to the Slytherin dungeon, and went straight for her Transfiguration book. Admittedly, she'd had a nice time flying with Marcus, but the fact remained that she  _needed_  to study, or else she'd be repeating fourth-year Transfiguration.

She headed for a study table in the common room, but there was a particularly rambunctious game of Exploding Snap going on by the fireplace. She decided to take her things to her father's office; whether he was there or not, it was certain to be quiet, and unlike in the library, there wasn't really a curfew - not for her, anyway.

On the way, she remembered the yellow flower from Marcus. She reached her hand up to the base of her ponytail; she could feel only shreds of the flower left, which she picked out of her hair. It must have fallen apart when they were flying - not surprising, really. Just as she pushed open the door to her father's office, she stuffed the remains of the lily's petals into her pocket.

Severus was at his desk, correcting papers. He glanced up when she entered, swept his eyes over her face. It was funny, but most of the time she hardly even noticed the way he always did that, always took in her expression. It was how he always knew, without her needing to say a word, when she was upset.

But then, didn't she do the same thing to him, most of the time? She did it now, looked at him carefully, taking the same sort of emotional inventory that he did.

"What's wrong?" Calista asked, without realising she was going to, just as his eyes returned to the pile of parchment in front of him.

Severus' quill paused, but he didn't look up.

"On Mr. Weasley's essay? Nearly everything."

Calista rolled her eyes. "That wasn't what I meant. And which Weasley? I thought Percy's potion came out fine."

"Not Percy," Severus said, sidestepping the first part of her statement, "Fred."

There was a marked distaste in his tone when he said the younger Weasley brother's name. He started marking again, crossing out entire sections of the essay in front of him.

Calista slipped into the chair in front of his desk, setting her Transfiguration textbook and notes on the edge of it.

"Why are you sad?" Calista asked, bluntly.

Severus' eyes flicked up at her, for only a fraction of an instant.

"Abysmal class performance, and an utterly astounding lack of effort."

"Dad."

He ignored her, scrawled a "T" on the top of Weasley's essay, and moved on to the next one in the stack. Almost immediately, he began crossing out large portions of the second essay.

She frowned, and then she had an idea. She sent an explorative tendril of her mind out, brushed at the edge of his. She saw his quill pause again for an instant, but then he continued on.

Concentrating, she allowed more strength, more presence to flow into the outgoing thread of her thoughts. She prodded at the edge of his consciousness again, making an exaggerated show of trying to slip through his outermost barrier.

"I do hope you're trying to be as evident as a herd of hippogriffs," Severus said, without glancing up. "Else you're in sore need of extra lessons."

"I'm not trying to hide," Calista said, brazenly. "It's just, I remember this deal we had, where as long as we talked to each other, no one had to use legilimency."

Severus did glance up now, and a snarl painted his features.

"That was a one-way bargain, if you'll recall."

"Was it? Hm. Too bad, I guess I  _don't_ recall that part."

"Oh, I'm quite certain you do. Shall I reach into  _your_  mind, find that memory for you, and remind you precisely how it went?"

Calista shrugged, nonchalantly. "If you want to."

His irritation was quite evident now that she had called his bluff; she knew he wouldn't invade her mind outside of a lesson without good reason.

"Have you come here for a purpose, or simply to annoy me?" he snapped, waspishly.

"Annoying you  _is_  a purpose," she reminded him, "But I came here to study, mostly. Then I noticed you were sad, and I remembered that you were sad this morning, too. Although." she wrinkled her nose, recalling, "I was far away. I suppose you could have been cross rather than sad."

"Calista, if you've come to study, then do so. I haven't the time for this."

"Well, I'm not leaving until you talk to me, so if you're really so pressed for time, it's in your best interest to start now, isn't it?"

He set his quill down finally, and looked at her with little else but exasperation.

"You're an insufferable brat."

"I know."

"What is it that I need to tell you, so you'll leave me in peace?" Severus asked.

"I haven't decided yet," she said, "Why don't you start by telling me what's wrong, like I asked when I first came in?"

"Calista," Severus said, and he tried and failed to inject a note of kindness into his overarching exasperation, "I understand what you're trying to do, but I assure you it's not necessary."

"No one ever said it was  _necessary_ ," she said "And it's never  _necessary_  for you to help me work through things when I'm the one that's upset, but you always do it anyway. It's… Dad, I want to help."

"I know," he said, quietly, but with a finality Calista recognized, "But you can't, Calista. There are things… there are some things that no amount of talking will fix, and when it comes to these things, I would prefer it if you stopped pressing."

She was quiet for a moment; after a spell, he turned resolutely back to his marking. Calista stood, grabbing her textbook and her notebook from his desk.

"Imagine if I said that," she said, and there was a rush of emotion behind her words that was something between hurt and anger, "When I was six - or ever. Where would we be now?"

"Calista, it's not the same thing -" he began, but she was heading for the doorway.

"Fine, Dad," she said, interrupting him. "It's not the same thing. Good night."

She left, closing the door firmly behind her. Severus swallowed, and bent his head over his work.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

On Saturday morning, Calista felt foolish walking into the Slytherin common room in pale periwinkle dress robes, with her hair down, held back by a filmy hairband that matched her robes perfectly. It wasn't the robes or the hairband that made her feel foolish - at least not entirely. It was the fact that she had, after all, attempted to follow the advice of her best friend and her aunt, and had applied a small amount of eyeshadow. She wasn't certain she'd gotten it right, but at any rate she didn't think she looked  _too_  ridiculous.

She'd used a little of the perfume too, and even though she'd had the bottle for over a year, it marked the first time she'd ever attempted to use it. She had drawn the line at the other things - the eyeliner, the little brush that seemed designed to poke her eyes out.

When she was finished, she tried to imagine what Aunt Narcissa would say - something kind, something that probably wasn't quite true, like ' _You look beautiful, darling_ ' - but she wasn't here, and Calista wished she could just forget the whole thing and go back to bed.

She nearly did; but then she remembered that the whole point of all of this was to look nice for Marcus, to have her first real date with him, and even if the prospect mostly terrified her, she really did want to spend the day with him. Maybe they'd even find somewhere to kiss, after their date; somewhere they wouldn't be bothered, but which wouldn't technically qualify as sneaking off somewhere to be alone.

Gathering her courage, she emerged into the common room - and there was Marcus, waiting for her as he'd said he would, and he looked… she felt a familiar blush rising to her cheeks. He looked  _really_  good. He was wearing dress robes too, dark grey ones that made his eyes stand out.

"Hey," he said, and she was almost able to ignore the looks from some of the others that were in the common room; might have been able to entirely if one of them hadn't been Olivia.

Olivia was wearing dress robes too, and she must have gotten up even earlier than Calista to get ready, because she had already left the room when Calista woke up. Olivia's dress robes were also blue, but they were a deep, bright blue where Calista's were soft and pale. Olivia's hair was done up, and she had a lot more make-up on than Calista did; what was more, even Calista could tell that it had been applied expertly.

Olivia was hanging on to Derek Logan's arm, and she shot a smirk at Calista. Well, she had finally gotten what she wanted, then. Calista wondered if Olivia expected her to be jealous that she was evidently going on a date with Derek, but if it would keep Olivia from trying to steal Marcus, then Calista was as happy for her as anyone.

Still, under Olivia's scornful gaze, she couldn't help but feel like she was just an awkward child playing dress-up; she became all too aware of her long nose, her skinny limbs, the awkward height that she had grown to sometime over the last year. At least Marcus was still much taller than her.

"So you… erm, you still want to go, yeah?" Marcus asked.

She nodded, hastily. "Yeah - yeah, let's go."

They chatted on the way there, he about Quidditch and she the essay she was working on for Charms. It was nice, companionable. Last month's snow had nearly melted, and the sun was quite warm for February.

They stepped into Madam Puddifoot's, and Calista was struck by a sudden, desperate urge to step right back out. There seemed to be nothing but couples inside, wall-to-wall and window-to-window, a sea of couples. Nearly all of them were dressed up, and Calista imagined that every single girl in the tea shop was a thousand times prettier in their dress robes than she was in hers.

Marcus led them to a small, spindly table - it looked barely large enough to hold two teacups, but there were two chairs nonetheless. How had he managed to find an empty one? Had he needed to make reservations, or had he just gotten lucky? She had no idea.

The other couples around them were all either kissing or holding hands; Calista felt herself blushing. Marcus didn't expect her to do that in front of a room full of people, did he? Well, she wasn't going to - she didn't even want to be here while everyone else was making such a display.

The windows were steamed up, and paper hearts and doves were strung from the ceiling. Someone came around to take their order, and Calista discovered the sole highlight of Madam Puddifoot's so far, which was that, in addition to what seemed a hundred different types of tea, they had coffee.

The two of them sat, for the space of several minutes, in a strained, uncomfortable silence. Calista cursed herself inwardly; she was mucking all this up, she knew she was, and there wasn't really anything she could  _do_  about it. She supposed that she was supposed to reach for Marcus' hand, or lean across the table and kiss him, like nearly every other girl in the room was doing - but she  _couldn't_ , not in this horrible stuffy room, with its lurid paper hearts and what felt like a hundred girls that Marcus could have chosen to take here instead.

"So," Marcus said, breaking the silence. She could hear tension in his voice, too; he was probably wondering why she wasn't snogging him already. After all, they  _were_  on a date. "You look… erm, you look really… really pretty," he said.

"You look… you look nice too," she said, and even though she did mean it, she knew her words didn't sound sincere; but then, his hadn't, either. She wondered, half-seriously, if there were some sort of ward at the doorway that had stopped her personality from entering the shop with the rest of her.

She drained her coffee, to have something to do, but too late realised that she'd just drunk her best excuse for not acting romantic; what could she do with her mouth, now that her coffee was gone, and kissing him in this place was still  _definitely_ out?

"I keep thinking I'm s'posed to start reading these," Marcus said, waggling his teacup back and forth, "Once my tea's gone. Predict the future, y'know?"

"What would… what would you see in them, do you think?" she asked, because she had to say  _something_. But that had been a moronic question, hadn't it? She'd opened the door wide for him to say something like  _'A different girlfriend, who doesn't act completely mental when I take her on a date'_

But "Dunno," was all he said. She could feel his eyes on her; she didn't want to meet his gaze, because what if she saw something she didn't like? What if he was disappointed, wishing he never brought her? What if he was realising that he didn't much like her at all, come to think of it? She'd know it, if he was; he was too easy to read.

She glanced around the shop again, just to avoid his gaze. Now that she took a good look, she supposed that it wasn't  _only_  couples that were here. A couple of older Hufflepuff boys had just come on, and seemed to be scoping the place for girls that weren't with their boyfriends, and Endria Folland was sitting at a table by one of the fogged-up windows with Felicia Lucado, a sixth-year Ravenclaw Prefect.

Now she did look at Marcus, to see if he was looking at Endria; he wasn't, but he looked distinctly unhappy, and nearly as uncomfortable as she felt. Well, there was that, then. She'd officially ruined their first date. She supposed it was inevitable that this would be their last, too.

Why,  _why_  couldn't they just have gone for a walk around the lake or something, instead? They could converse just fine, when it wasn't in this stuffy, overheated and over-hormoned room. She knew a spot on the far side of the lake that wasn't readily visible from the castle; if he wanted her to kiss him, she would have happily done it there.

"So, erm…" Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. "This is kind of… you know."

"Yeah," she said, nodding. She wasn't sure what she was agreeing to.

"Can we just… can we just go to Zonko's?" Marcus asked.

Calista suddenly felt like her coffee was burning a hole through her stomach. She nodded, and got up quickly. As soon as Marcus had paid the bill, both of them scrambled out of the shop as quickly as if they'd been chased out.

Despite the terrible way Calista was feeling, being out in the cool pre-Spring air was a relief.

"Wow," Marcus observed, as they set off down the high street, "It was hot in there, huh?"

"Mmm."

"Tea was pretty good, I guess. How was your coffee?"

"Fine."

Marcus nodded; he seemed a lot more at ease, suddenly. Lighter, happier.

"I know you love coffee. I'm glad they had some."

Calista nodded, even though he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were ahead, on the well-lit windows of Zonko's. As the shop swam into view, Calista felt a hard lump in her throat.

 _If the boy you've had a crush on suddenly decides to ask you out,_  Tonks' words rang through her head,  _Don't go to a joke shop instead._

"Calista?" Marcus wondered, pausing outside the door to the shop, "You coming in?"

Well, it was too late to change anything now, wasn't it? She had roundly ruined it, ruined her first date, probably ruined their entire relationship, just because she couldn't act normal in a goddamned tea shop. Maybe her father had been right all along; maybe she  _was_  too young to have a boyfriend.

"Yeah," she said, trying not to sound as miserable as she felt, "I'm coming."

She forced her emotions down, stepped into the shop, and did her best to pretend that she was okay. She wandered through the store with him, forcing a laugh whenever he pointed out a clever prank, offering a bare minimum of commentary.

"Nose-biting teacups," Marcus said, cheerfully, "I think these are the only kind I wanna see for a while. Hey, look - coffee-flavoured Sugar Quills. I'm buying you some."

"You don't have to." She supposed it said a lot about him that he still wanted to be her friend, even after their disastrous date. Still, she didn't need a… a pity present, or whatever it was.

"'Course I don't  _have_  to," Marcus said, "But I'm going to."

He brought them up the register, along with a packet of Every Flavour Beans that advertised it contained "Only the Most Vile Varieties".

"Think I'll pass these out at the next practise," he said, as they stepped out of the store and back onto the high street.

He stuffed the bag containing his purchases deep into the deep pocket of his dress robes, and reached easily for Calista's hand.

That was the moment that proved too much for Calista; she felt the lump hardening in her throat again, and she jerked her hand away from his.

"You don't have to do that - any of this," she said, keeping her voice steady only with intense effort, "It's - I already know I've mucked everything up."

"Huh?" Marcus furrowed his brow, appearing genuinely confused. "What d'you mean?"

"I -," she swallowed. The lump wouldn't go away. "The… the date. You tried to … to do something nice and I just… anyway, it doesn't matter. My friend, Tonks - she told me, if you're supposed to go on a date, don't go to a joke shop instead."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Because - because that's what she did, and then the boy she was supposed to go with didn't like her anymore," she said, "And now  _we_  just did that…"

"Hang on," Marcus said, shaking his head, incredulously. "You think I… you think I won't like you anymore, just because we went to a  _joke shop_?"

"Well, that and I acted completely  _stupid_  at the tea shop," she said. She felt a faint pinprick at the back of her eyes, and fiercely fought against letting the sensation turn into the blur of tears. Whatever happened, she was so  _not_  going to cry on the sidewalk in front of a joke shop.  _Especially_  not about a boy.

"The tea shop was stupid," Marcus said.

Now it was Calista's turn to look confused. "What?"

"It was stupid," he repeated, "We should've just come to Zonko's in the first place. Or maybe gone to the Three Broomsticks. Everyone said that's where I should take you, but I didn't know it was so… erm…"

"Vomit-inducing?" Calista suggested, tentatively. Was this… was this going to work out all right after all?

Marcus chuckled. "Yeah, that. Anyway, I like joke shops. You like joke shops, right?"

She nodded.

"So why can't we have a date somewhere we both like going?"

"I guess… I guess we can."

Marcus nodded, and then he reached for her hand again. "Where do you want to go now?"

She considered her options. Then she smiled at her boyfriend. "We could go back to Hogwarts… I know a spot by the lake that you can't really see from the castle."

Marcus grinned, and her stomach fluttered, but not at all in an unpleasant way. He took her other hand, and leaned close, planting just one soft, sweet kiss.

"Lead the way."


	11. Chapter 11

Severus Snape sighed, scrawling an 'A' on a Hufflepuff fifth-year's essay and shuffling it off to the side, only to pick the next one up without any enthusiasm. Exams were drawing near again, and if the students thought it was a hectic time, it was nothing to how the professors felt. He had a sizeable stack of essays still to be marked, lesson plans to go over, and he still had to find time to go to an apothecary, as several of his classroom stores were running low.

As if all of that weren't enough, Calista would be arriving in his office in - he glanced up at the clock on his office wall - no less than ten minutes for her weekly Occlumency lesson, and 'arriving' was rather political phrasing. Exam stress always seemed to hit Calista particularly hard and the result was that, for the entire month of May, she was more or less a bloody nightmare to be around.

This year had been one of the most profound examples of that; he suspected it had a little to do with the importance of the upcoming fifth year academics, and more than a little to do with the fact that she had reached fifteen years of age, and how often did  _that_  result in a pleasant attitude towards authority figures?

As if she were summoned by his thoughts, the door of his office slowly creaked open, and Calista shuffled in, head bent and eyes glued to a volume that was open in her arms.

"You know, I really haven't got time for this," she muttered, sparing only the merest of glances upwards to him. "If I don't get the hang of this blasted spell by exam time they'll keep me back and then I'll hurl myself off a bloody cliff, I swear I wi- Ugh, right into it then, I see?"

He saw her wince as he made his first attack on the outermost layer of her mind, but she recovered quickly and, still focused on what he now identified as her Transfiguration textbook, perched on the edge of the chair across the desk from him.

"How far have you gotten?" Severus asked, pointing with his chin towards the book in her lap, though she wasn't looking his way.

"I'm…" she paused, feeling the insistent press of his mental intrusion and, he suspected, bolstering her defences in response; however, whatever she did, she did it with a subtlety sufficient enough to mask it. He saw her pause, but he didn't feel anything within her mind shifting or responding to his attack.

He opened his mouth, intending to remind her not to outwardly respond to his intrusion, but before he could, she had lowered her head to the volume again.

"Cross-species switches," she said, "I've finally managed guinea fowl to guinea pig consistently, but now-"

Severus breached her first mental wall; he saw her pause as a flurry of thoughts and memories, undoubtedly carefully chosen and arranged, swarmed him in the second layer of her mind, obscuring the next barrier.

"Now," she began again, as she turned a page in her book. He didn't know if she was truly reading the text or if it was done for effect to cover her pause, but her voice barely wavered as she continued, "I'm meant to be practising badgers to hedgehogs, and it's a lot more difficult than I hoped."

"Is it?" he asked, smoothly, though he wasn't particularly interested in her response; within the space of her mind, he sifted through the contents until, finally, he discovered her second barrier.

"Mm," she said, and then, crossly as he began to exert force on her her mental wall, "Obviously. I just  _said_  it was difficult, didn't I?"

"Well, where are you going wrong? Perhaps I can help."

"Unless you're going to come into the hall and sit my exam for me," she growled, as he sliced through her second barrier and began the hunt for the third, "I doubt it."

"Ah, but then how would you learn?" he asked, lightly, knowing the question would irritate her and wondering if that would impact her blocking skills.

The third barrier was easier to navigate to than the second, because as he had sliced through the first two, she had redirected that strength, as was her habit, to the third barrier, and a practised legilimens like himself could follow the direction of the redirected energy. Still, he had to admit, she had done it quite smoothly; thought it possible that anyone besides himself might have missed the flow of energy.

"I've been trying to catch up for three bloody years," she muttered, "I don't even care if I learn it anymore; I just want to pass into the fifth-year class."

He pushed against her third and final barrier, saw at once that it was strong, solid. It would be difficult to pass through. He reached tendrils of his consciousness out, feeling for defects, for flaws in the pattern of the wall that he might be able to exploit; ah, there was one.

"And how do you suppose you would perform in the fifth-year class, if you had not fully grasped its foundation concepts?" he queried, as he began to worm his way through the spot. Really, it was so weakly reinforced just here that he couldn't help but affect a disapproving grimace, though he doubt she saw it, nose still turned towards the book. He'd thought she was more advanced than this -

And then, suddenly, just as he was nearing the other end of the tunnel-like weak patch in her mental barrier, he felt the strength of her, pushing him back through the same focused space. Because it was a narrow spot, she was able to force quite a bit of strength, concentrated, against him. She pushed him back out, beyond the barrier and further still. He felt swishes and flutters of her surface thoughts whizzing by at a disorienting rate, and by the time he recovered enough to overpower her, he found himself just barely at the outer edge of her mind.

"I expect," she said, even as a solid new mental wall began to materialize in front of his presence, and it was clear she was no longer speaking of Transfiguration, "That I'll do just fine."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

"Perhaps," Percy said, eyeing Calista's latest transfiguration attempt, "They'll leave this one off the exams."

Calista sighed, slamming the cover of her textbook closed, and placing her chin glumly in her hands, elbows resting on the surface of the study table.

"You're saying that's my only hope to pass, then?"

"Well," Percy said, anxiously, "Your guinea pig transformation is getting halfway decent; I suppose if you can manage that they  _might_  overlook the snout inconsistencies on your hedgehog." He didn't sound as if he really believed this would happen.

"Inconsistencies," Calista echoed, a growl creeping into her voice, "My hedgehog looks more like an aardvark - how is that even  _possible_?"

"I don't know," Percy said, bristling at her tone and stiffening his spine in response, "Perhaps you're simply not concentrating hard enough."

Calista aimed a glare at him that was so reminiscent of her father's that Percy flushed and dropped his gaze.

"Erm, never mind," he said hastily, "I'm sure it's just more practise you need. Shall we, then?"

"What's the point?" Calista asked glumly, but she re-opened the text anyway, lifting her wand with a tired sort of determination.

She had to admit, though, that as tiresome and teeth-grittingly irritating it could be to struggle through Percy's tutoring sessions, she did better studying with him than with anyone else. Perhaps she needed a demanding and aggravating teacher to succeed - she chuckled inwardly at the thought. That would certainly explain why her Occlumency lessons were going so swimmingly.

She certainly preferred studying with Amelia, but the truth of the matter was that when the two girls were together, studying was often quick to devolve into researching and discussing curses, and then into simply goofing around. The exception, usually, was when they were working on Arithmancy homework, which generally required their complete and dedicated concentration not to muck it up.

There was Marcus, as well; but studying with him was not the same now that they were finally, officially, a couple. They were likely to get perhaps ten minutes of studying in before Marcus would restlessly suggest that they go flying, or go for a walk around the lake. At first, she had given in about half the time, but now that exams were drawing close, she would stubbornly and steadfastly refuse to leave the library, or the common room, until they'd gone through all of the material they'd planned to study.

Occasionally, Marcus would grudgingly comply and they'd plod through their notes and cards, but more often, he would come across the table, sidle close and wrap one arm around her, would begin planting kisses on her shoulder, her cheek, until, red-faced and utterly unable to concentrate, Calista would have to take a break or else send him away. She couldn't quite pretend that she didn't enjoy those study sessions, but they certainly weren't very  _productive_.

She had tried studying in her father's office a few times as well, but if he was there it always felt more like an occlumency lesson than anything else, and though she knew she was getting better at blocking him while focused on something else, she couldn't quite focus well enough to actually make much progress with whatever subject she was studying in addition to fending off his intrusions.

"Are you even paying attention?" Percy asked, in long-suffering tones, and she realised that he had been lecturing her about the incantation and she hadn't even noticed. She sighed, interrupted from her straying thoughts, and thought bleakly that it would be a miracle if she managed to do well enough on her exams to make it into the OWL-level class.

Severus might have thought she was having him on when she'd threatened to throw herself off a cliff if she was held back a year, but the way she was feeling just then, she wasn't so sure.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

A week before exams began, Severus was interrupted from grading for what seemed the umpteenth time; before the growing commotion from the corridor even reached his office door, he had thrown his quill aside in barely-contained disgust and adopted an unwelcoming grimace.

Only a few nights past, those blasted Weasley twins had slipped into the Potions classroom after hours with a tub of some sort of hair product - or at least, that's what it had been labelled as, though Severus had a strong suspicion that whatever was in it was indeed some nefarious concoction of their own - and had begun, if it could be believed, to swab the stuff all over the insides of the glass flasks that Severus had laid out for his morning class.

Merlin only knew what was actually in the gunk and what it would have done had they not been caught and his unsuspecting students had actually poured their Forgetfulness Potions into the tainted flasks. Never mind that it was their own class they were sabotaging; they had targeted only the flasks lined up to the left side of the classroom, where the Slytherin students usually worked.

At best, the little heathens were trying to undermine his authority and disrupt his class; at worst, they could have caused a dangerous, perhaps lethal interaction, targeting the students of his House. And what had the headmaster done, when he, Severus, had recommended the swift expulsion of both of them? He'd  _chuckled_ , maddeningly, and refused to let Severus administer more than a single detention.

If it was them again - Severus felt his lip curl, as he began to rise from his chair - he vowed he'd have them out on their ears, no matter how soft Dumbledore always seemed to be when it came to Gryffindors causing mayhem.

A distinctly female wail rose above the general din in the corridor just as a knock came on his office door. He crossed the room and pulled the door open, instinctively searching the cluster of gathered faces for his daughter's.

No less than five Slytherin girls stood before him, nearly all of them first years. At least, he thought they were all girls - one of them, face half-covered in oozing sores, appeared so disfigured it was honestly hard to tell.

"Sh-she  _tried to kill me_ , Professor," the wailing one stammered out; the words sounded a bit mangled though, as they were pushed out from her swollen lips so it sounded more like, 'She tryba-kirrme"

Severus stepped aside, allowing the horde to stream into his office, where the light was better, and he examined the injured girl closely.

"What hex is this?" he asked tersely, addressing the rest of the girls, for it wasn't quite like any he had seen and he didn't want to give her the wrong cure. A few of them exchanged looks, and all of them looked distinctly concerned, as well as distinctly guilty.

"It… it was s-supposed to be  _Furnunculus_ , Professor," whispered the girl at the back of the group. It was Miss Spratt, the one Calista had spoken to him about a few months prior. "Only I… I think I might have mucked it up."

"Oh," Severus couldn't help but respond sardonically, " _Do you_ , now?"

Nevertheless, he reached for a vial of Boil-Cure potion, and a Disinfecting Draught besides; he mightn't need both, but with a spell that had gotten as botched as this one, it certainly couldn't hurt to err on the side of caution. He unstoppered both vials and passed them, one at a time, to the blubbering girl.

Miss Spratt flinched at his tone, and retreated towards the back wall of his office. Slowly, the girl in front of him began to return to her usual self. Ah, as he'd suspected, then - it was Miss Nott, another of the first years.

"She tried to kill me, sir," Miss Nott repeated, now that she could speak properly, "It can't have been  _Furnunculus_ , you saw what she did, it was  _horrible_. I think she should be expelled."

At this, and now that Miss Nott had returned to normal, the rest of the girls all began speaking at once.

Severus put a hand up, tiredly, and it ceased immediately.

"Miss Lima," he said, focusing on the one second year among them, because he knew her to be a friend of Calista's and a fairly reliable witness, "Did you see what happened?"

"It was  _Furnunculus_ , sir, just like Daisy said. Or… it was supposed to be. I think she might have said the incantation wrong, at the end. But sir, she was provoked -"

"That's a lie!" Miss Not interrupted indignantly, and after a glance at the professor, she hastily added, "Erm, sir."

"Go on, Miss Lima," he said.

"We were doing homework in the common room, all of us," the girl continued, in a clear voice; she was one of the handful of younger students that wasn't quite afraid of him. But then, she was a decent student, and he supposed the fact that she was friends with Calista bolstered her confidence. "When Gretchen came out from their dorm - the first years', you know - and she was holding a book. She started reading from it, something about -"

Miss Spratt immediately flushed pink, and Miss Lima glanced at her friend before continuing, "Well, it was something very personal, sir, and it was… well, it was from Daisy's diary. She… she was reading it in front of everyone."

"It was a joke," the Nott girl said, jutting her chin out defensively, "And she grabbed her wand and  _hexed_  me. She was all ready to fire another curse, finish me off, I suppose, but someone pulled her away. I ran down here to get help and for some reason," she paused to glower behind her at the crowd of girls, "They all followed me. Probably to try and make sure  _I_  got the blame for their friend  _attacking_  me."

"We followed you to make sure you were all right," Miss Lima said, though Severus' eye was keen enough to see that not all of the girls agreed with this sentiment, "Daisy felt awful when the spell went wrong."

"I see," Severus said, although he wasn't quite sure he did. Something was still going on among the Slytherin girls, despite the headmaster's anti-bullying speech a few weeks ago at dinner, but whatever it was, he didn't have the patience for it. "Miss Spratt, you'll serve a detention with me after your class tomorrow for hexing your classmate."

Miss Nott was gloating before the words had even left his mouth; she tried hastily to school her expression when she saw him catch it, but wasn't fast enough. He'd seen that expression enough times in his life to know that she certainly was no innocent party. His lip curled slightly. "Miss Nott, I think you'd best attend as well. Perhaps a couple of hours disemboweling toads together will remind the two of you that you're in the same House."

"But Professor -" Miss Nott wisely cut off her protests when his eyes began to flash.

He did  _not_ have time for this nonsense, he thought, as he sent the horde of them back to their common room.

 _Furnunculus_ , he thought, sourly, recalling a very similar incident over three years ago.  _Well, I know who to blame for teaching her that one._

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The day they were meant to get their exam results, Calista couldn't sit still; she'd tried reading, tried sketching, even tried studying Transfiguration even though she couldn't quite see what good that would do her at this point, now that the exams had already been administered.

Cross-species switches had indeed been featured on the exam, and Calista knew that her badger-to-hedgehog transformation was still heavily flawed. She'd hoped, in vain, that her mistakes might not be noticed, but she had seen Professor McGonagall scrutinizing the snout and making notes with a small frown on her stern features.

She'd hardly slept at all since taking that exam, and she hoped that her lack of rest hadn't negatively affected her performance on the exams she'd had the following day - History of Magic and Herbology. Mercifully, at least, the rest of her exams had taken place  _before_  the Transfiguration one.

It was a welcome distraction when Marcus suggested they go flying, though she was slightly concerned that the results might come in while she was with him at the Quidditch pitch. The envelopes their marks came in were magically sealed so that only the student whose results were inside, or their legal guardians, could open them, but she didn't trust Olivia not to try and find a way around that, just so she could be the first to gloat if Calista  _were_  held back.

"Ready to go upside-down?" Marcus asked in her ear, as he pulled them slowly back up from an exhilarating dive.

"You know the answer to that," she said firmly, "And it's no."

"One of these days," he vowed, good-naturedly.

"Not a chance."

"You don't know what you're missing," he said, half-playfully and half-earnestly. "It's loads of fun - oh no, you don't," he said, because he had felt her squirming as they neared the ground again, saw the way that her neck craned toward the castle as a handful of owls streamed out from the high window of the Owlery.

"But the owls - everyone's sending letters, that must mean the exam scores have come in, people are writing to tell their parents -"

Marcus leaned forward, one arm angling the broom into another steep climb, the other snaking firmly around Calista's middle.

"All you've talked about for months are the bloody exams," he said, his tone just as firm as hers had been when she'd refused his offer to fly inverted, "You scored what you scored. Seeing it now or seeing it after having some  _fun_  for a change won't make a difference."

"Clearly, you and I have differing definitions of  _fun_ ," Calista said sourly.

"Do we?" he said, before launching them towards the ground at an alarming rate.

Calista felt her stomach clench, and then threaten to leap into her throat; they were going so fast…

As if he had sensed her fear, Marcus pulled her even closer, his grip both on her and on the broomstick handle sure and firm. She felt him rest his chin on her shoulder, just as they neared the ground and then banked a spectacular turn, one that sent the broom, if not quite upside down, then decidedly  _sideways_ , before beginning yet another swift ascent.

"Okay," Calista said, feeling her stomach flutter for an entirely different reason. She found that she had to shout so the wind didn't snatch her words away, "This is… this is kind of fun."

"I knew it," he said, triumphantly, "I knew you could love flying."

"I wouldn't go that far -" she began, but he was diving again.

"Sorry, can't hear you," Marcus said brightly. "Wind."

They flew around the pitch for over an hour before Marcus finally relented and brought them to the ground.

"All right," he said, as he released his grip on her and she scrambled off the broom, "I know you're losing your bloody mind wondering about your scores. We'll go back - wait for me, yeah?"

She had already started practically sprinting towards the castle, but she did slow her pace considerably when he called after her, though she didn't quite stop.

"I'm kind of nervous, too," Marcus admitted, "If I didn't do well enough, they might not let me stay on the Quidditch team."

"How could you want to keep flying then, if you're worried about exams too?" Calista wondered.

Marcus frowned at her, brows furrowing in a truly puzzled expression. "That's how I  _stop_  worrying, yeah? I get up there, with the wind whipping past me and it's just like, there's nothing to worry about up there, except pulling off the perfect dive."

"I wish I had something like that. Something that would keep me from worrying."

"Flying doesn't… it doesn't do that for you?"

She shook her head.

"Huh," he said, and he sounded a little sad. "That's rough, then. I can't imagine what it would be like if I didn't have - if I couldn't take a load off by getting on my broomstick."

She shrugged, unconsciously quickening her pace as they drew closer to the castle.

"You know," Marcus mused, "I think it works even better when you come with me."

"Hm?" Calista glanced back; she'd been going over the switching spell again in her mind, calculating just how poor of an effort she'd actually displayed during her examination. Was he still talking about flying?

"When you're with me," he said again, gesturing behind them in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. "I like trying to make you enjoy flying, you know, instead of just being afraid. It's kind of a fun challenge."

"Oh," she said, unsure how she should respond; but more than that, they had arrived at the castle. She felt her heartbeat quicken as she stepped up to the heavy oak door, wondering what the tidy little envelope that would be waiting in her dormitory room would hold.

Marcus sighed, and jogged a couple of paces to meet her; evidently she'd left him behind again, without realising it.

"I'm nervous too," he reminded her, as they both traced their way through the dungeons to their common room.

"Let's bring them out here," Marcus said, before she could disappear into her dormitory, "And open them together. That way… you know, if it's… if it's bad news, at least we won't be alone."

"I don't see how that would make it any better," she said, already feeling a trickle of dread work its way into her chest, but she nodded anyway. "I'll… see you back here in a minute, yeah?"

It was just as well that she'd decided to withdraw from her dormitory room to open the envelope, because Olivia and Portia were in the room, gossiping and laughing about something. Calista supposed it couldn't be anything good, but she didn't have the energy just then to eavesdrop.

She snatched up her envelope and made for the door again.

"I hope to see you in Transfiguration next year," Olivia said, in a boastful sort of tone that conveyed exactly the opposite sentiment, while also making it plain that she, Olivia, was evidently pleased with her own scores.

Calista turned the envelope over in her hands, examining it carefully; Olivia didn't already know something awful, did she?  _Had_  she managed, somehow, to open Calista's results? But the envelope seemed intact.

Calista met Marcus in the common room, and they marched over to a study table in a quiet, unoccupied corner; she felt like she was marching to a funeral, and by the set of Marcus' shoulders, so did he.

Calista exhaled, and both of them tore open their envelopes. Her eyes dropped to the page, scanning the results.

Potions, top marks. Charms, top marks. She'd done quite well in Herbology for a change, and Astronomy and History of magic as well.

Her Arithmancy score was very good and - she'd scored top marks in another class this year, Ancient Runes. Well, it was hardly any wonder, with all the extra research she'd done for Flitwick, but all the same, she felt a glow of pride warming inside herself.

Finally, she forced her eyes to go to her Transfiguration score.

It was… gods, that had been close. Her mark was borderline, but there was no mistaking what it meant…

"I passed," Calista said, a huge sigh of relief escaping as she looked up at Marcus. A ghost of a grin began to spread across her face, but faded when she saw the expression of horror on her boyfriend's face.

"I didn't," he said, crumpling the parchment in his fist.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

Calista sat at the small kitchen table, staring at the words of the letter before her, even though she had already read through it so many times in the last three days that the words scarcely made sense anymore.

As letters went, it was largely innocuous. There was just one sentence that set Calista's heart racing in an altogether unpleasant manner.

_Hey Calista -_

_Hope you're having a good summer so far! Staying out of trouble I hope (Nah, just joking, that wouldn't be any fun)._

_I never thought I'd say this but I kind of wish I was going back to school in the fall. Auror training's not easy - Guess I knew it wouldn't be but it's not like studying for classes at all, it's much more intense. Still, be worth it if I can qualify. Wish me luck!_

_I get the weekends off at least, and I could use a distraction, so why don't you come over one of these weekends? Mum still wants to meet you properly anyway (don't worry, she's not cross anymore about that thing in Diagon Alley. She understands)._

_What do you say? Come and see us?_

_-Tonks_

Calista shivered, and clenched her fingers into fists briefly, before releasing them. Merlin, her fingers were so cold suddenly, even in the warmth of the second-level flat she and her father rented in the summers.

_Mum still wants to meet you properly_

"I doubt there's anything left in that letter to be gleaned from another read-through," Severus commented lightly, as he entered the kitchen, depositing a mug in the basin.

"What if I lose it again?" Calista asked, looking up at him, "What if I go all mental in front of her whole family?"

"You aren't obligated to go," Severus reminded her; nevermind that they had already had this precise conversation at least twice since the letter had arrived.

"But I… I should. Right?"

"That's entirely up to you. It's…" Severus sighed. "Miss Tonks, and her mother, are your family by blood. If you want a relationship with them, then you should go. You know that. However, you don't have to. Certainly, your Aunt Narcissa would advise you against it."

"I wish you could go with me," Calista said, not for the first time.

"Ah, I'm certain your friend - your cousin - would relish the prospect of spending a weekend with her least favourite professor."

"You don't know that you're her  _least_  favourite," Calista countered, but half-heartedly, because  _she_  for one actually did know that; Tonks had told her, once.

"Be that as it may," Severus said, and he leaned over the worktop to open the window screen as he spied an owl approaching in the distance, "The invitation is for you, and you know that it would be seen as strange for me to accompany you; after all, you are fifteen years of age, as you're wont to remind me whenever you disagree with any restrictions I've set you."

A long-eared owl that was very familiar to Calista swooped into the kitchen; she leapt up to remove the letter attached to its leg. She thought she detected a small, disapproving sort of sound from her father's throat and she shot him a half-hearted glare, but he was suddenly busy rinsing out the mug he'd set in the basin a few moments ago.

"It's from Marcus," Calista announced as she read through the letter, though they both knew that by now. "He wants to me to come visit him this summer."

"Now  _that_ ," Severus said immediately, waspishly, "Is a visit I will accompany you on."

"Ugh, Dad, no way.  _That_  would definitely 'be seen as strange'. Besides, Marcus' parents will be home - he already wrote that, see -," and here she brandished the letter for an instant, but then, remembering something  _else_  Marcus had written, she withdrew it hastily before he could actually see any of the writing. "He knew you'd ask, so he told me they'll be home."

"A claim which I can't readily verify," Severus said, nearly petulant, "No, I don't think a visit to Mr. Flint's home is a wise idea."

"Dad, come on," she said, "You're not seriously going to forbid me from seeing him  _now_ , after everything!"

"I never said you were forbidden from seeing him," Severus said, although Calista suspected he wanted to say precisely that, "I am saying you are forbidden from visiting him at his home."

"Dad!" Calista growled, and Severus held a hand up, cutting off what was undoubtedly going to become some variation on the old ' _It's not fair'_ argument of her youth.

"He may come here to visit, if you wish. When  _I_  am home. And you are not to close your bedroom door while he is here."

"Seriously?" Calista queried, snatching up both of her letters from the table, "Come  _on_ , Dad, he's not going to want to come to a  _professor's house_  during the summer."

She hoped her tone was sufficiently scathing.

"Then I suppose he doesn't want to see you that badly," Severus said, and Calista took in his expression and knew better than to push the issue further just now, "If you want to see Mr. Flint this summer, then you will see him here."

" _We'll see_ ," Calista settled for saying, in acid tones, because it was the limit of what she thought she could get away with.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista stood in front of the washroom mirror, frowning at her reflection as she attempted to brush mascara onto her lashes from the impossibly tiny brush that had come with the tube. Various cosmetics, all from Narcissa, lay spread across the washroom countertop.

"You're going to miss the train," came Severus' disapproving voice from the kitchen; Calista started and winced as she poked herself squarely in the eye with the brush.

"Go away," she said, even though the washroom door was firmly closed.

"The next one isn't until half past three," he reminded her through the door, heedless of her words, "There's not enough time for you to take that one and be back before dinner."

"Ugh," she growled, not sure if she was cross with her father or with herself, and she angrily jammed the brush back into the mascara tube, "Forget this rubbish."

Severus was waiting in the kitchen, eyebrows raised, when she swept dramatically out of the washroom. "Excuse me?"

"I could just eat dinner in Diagon Alley, with Marcus," she said hopefully, and immediately wished that she hadn't.

Severus narrowed his eyes dangerously. "You're extremely fortunate that I am allowing you to travel to Diagon Alley by yourself to meet with  _that boy_. I'd advise you not to test the limits of my generosity further. You will be home for dinner."

It was true; it did seem like something of a miracle that he had relented to her compromise that she and Marcus meet somewhere  _besides_  their flat, with Severus present. It was also the first time that she was being allowed to travel to Diagon Alley by herself. Although, she  _suspected_  that Severus had alerted Emily's mother, Ferada, that she would be there and asked his acquaintance to keep an eye on her if she wandered near the bookstore.

"Fine," she said, quickly, because she wanted to diffuse his temper before he changed his mind about letting her go, "I'll be home before dinner, I promise. I'm… I'm leaving now."

Severus eyed her wordlessly; if he noticed the cosmetics she had applied, he didn't mention it. He nodded, jaw tight, as she headed for the door of their flat.

"Be careful," Severus reminded her, reflexively, finding his voice at last.

The door swung shut. He didn't know if she even heard him.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

"So... " Calista tilted her head, regarding Marcus across the small, spindly table where they both sat, though they had long since finished their ice cream cones already, "What happens, then, with your classes next year?"

"I dunno, I'm still sort of figuring it out," Marcus said, shrugging unhappily. "I guess… I guess I have the option to retake some classes for a higher grade. Puts me a year behind though, if I want to try to get to N.E.W.T. level."

"Well, even if you don't want to move on to N.E.W.T. classes," Calista pointed out reasonably, "Wouldn't it be good to earn a few more O.W.L.s?"

"I guess," Marcus said, "Don't see the point if I get kicked off the team, though."

"Have they… have they said whether you can continue to play, then?"

"Not yet," Marcus said, grimly, and then. "Your dad's helping me, though."

"Huh? He is?"

"Yeah," Marcus said, "He said he would talk to Dumbledore for me, see if they'd let me stay on as Captain. Guess he thinks we have a real chance of winning now, maybe because Charlie Weasley's graduated."

"I can't believe he's helping you, I was afraid he'd be awful to you until you graduate, because of me."

"Nah, he's been much better since Christmas. Almost think he doesn't hate me anymore. Anyway, he said I should try to take as many classes as I think I can handle, at least one N.E.W.T. level, and I should re-take a few of my O.W.L. classes and try the exams again next year."

"What are you going to take at N.E.W.T. level?"

"Divination, for sure," Marcus said, and he grinned. "Did I tell you, I got an 'Outstanding' on my O.W.L.?"

"Seriously? For predicting your death every week?"

"I didn't die  _every_  week," he said, "Sometimes I just had life-altering injuries."

She laughed. "Unbelievable. How do they even set an examination for a class like that?"

"They gave me someone's star chart, and a diagram of someone's palm. I had to write what I thought would happen to them. Poor sod, not going to end well for him, whoever he was. Anyway, I'm thinking I might continue on with Care of Magical Creatures, too, I got 'Exceeds Expectations' in that one. I dunno what else I'm gonna take yet."

"You know," Calista said, "If you retook some of your O.W.L. classes… you'd be in with me."

"Yeah," Marcus said, "I thought of that. I think that would be fun… except, I think your dad wants me to retake Potions and I'm not sure I want to be in your class if he's the professor… no offense."

"But you have to re-take Potions!" she said, glossing over his comment about her father, "It's incredibly important - and anyway, I can help you, I'm the top student in our year. Hell, I might even be the top student in  _your_  year."

She'd added the last bit jokingly, but who knew? It could have been true. She'd made Amortentia, after all, and that had been ages ago.

"Maybe," he said, unconvinced. "I haven't decided yet what to take."

"What did you get, anyway? I know my dad doesn't let anyone take the N.E.W.T. class unless they've scored 'Outstanding'."

"Poor," Marcus said, and Calista winced. "Yeah see, I told you, I don't know if I should even bother."

"I can help. I promise. What else are you thinking of re-taking?"

"I dunno," Marcus said again, and he looked embarrassed, "I'll… I'll figure something out. Your dad reckons they'll probably let me stay on the team, if I take enough. Said Dumbledore would probably agree if it looked like I was still trying to 'further my academic career', or whatever."

"Well… I hope he's right. For the team… I mean, I think you're great as Captain."

Marcus grinned, replacing his uncomfortable expression. "Thanks."

"I mean… you might try having hot chocolate, though."

His brow furrowed. "Huh?"

Calista smiled crookedly. "The Gryffindor team used to have hot chocolate at their practises, and loads of people went to watch, from all different houses, even. I used to go sometimes."

"Yeah, I knew you were going there," Marcus said, slowly. "Some people were saying things a couple years ago, saying you were telling them our strategy. I knew you weren't though, so I told them I asked you to spy on them for me. I guess I always figured you were going because of that Weasley."

"I liked talking to some of the people that went," she said, "Percy, sure, and Tonks - she's my other cousin, though I didn't know that at first. And… I just couldn't stand to be in the common room, most of the time. Olivia and Portia always made it pretty unbearable for me."

"Well, at any rate," Marcus said, "I don't want anyone from other houses coming to watch our practise. Don't want them seeing which plays we're working on. So no hot chocolate."

"Hm," Calista mused playfully, with a small smirk, "Maybe I won't come to watch, then."

He grinned. "I know something you can have that's even better than hot chocolate, to make you come to the practises."

"Oh, yeah? What could that possibly be?" she challenged.

He stood, still grinning, and reached for her elbow, pulling her gently up out of her own chair. He leaned down, still holding on to her elbow, and slipped his other arm around her waist.

"The team captain," he said, and he kissed her, firmly, on the mouth. Ironically, he tasted a little like chocolate, from his ice cream.

When he pulled back, slightly, Calista could feel that her cheeks were warm.

"Yeah," she said, a little breathlessly, "I guess I could come watch."

He let his arm slide, a little reluctantly, away from her waist, and led her back out to the street, with his arm still linked through hers. "How much more time have you got, before you have to go back home?" he asked.

Calista didn't wear a watch, so she reached for his wrist instead to check the time. "The train comes in fifteen minutes," she said, "We'd better start walking that way."

"Oh. Okay. Do you… do you think your dad will let you stay for longer next time? Or maybe he'll let you come to my house?"

She snorted. "Believe me, I've  _tried_  on the latter count. It's not going to happen. I suppose I can probably convince him to let me meet you here again though. Hopefully."

"You told him my parents would be home?"

"Several times. He doesn't believe me. Or, he's using that as an excuse because he doesn't think your parents would  _supervise_  me closely enough."

"Something tells me it isn't  _you_  he's worried about supervising," Marcus said, darkly. "He might not hate me anymore, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't trust me. At least, not when it comes to you. Anyway, he's probably a little bit right."

"Huh? About what?" Calista cut him a suspicious look. "Why shouldn't he trust you?"

Marcus chuckled. "Not about that. I'd never do anything to hurt you - you know that, Calista. I meant, he's a little bit right about my parents. I don't think they'd… you know, I don't think they'd bother us much, if we were hanging around my house. I know my dad wouldn't. He's always saying -"

He stopped, and shook his head.

"No, what?" Calista said, "He's always saying what?"

Marcus was flushing now, as they neared the end of Diagon Alley. The train station was just a block or two beyond it.

"Nothing important. It's just… he was Quidditch captain too, when he was in school, you know? And he's always saying stuff about all these girls he snuck into the locker rooms after practise… but I'm not going to do that!"

Marcus added this last part quickly, when he glanced at Calista and saw an expression on her face that was somewhere between anxious and horrified.

"I only like one girl, and I'm not going to ask you to sneak into the locker rooms with me. I mean… unless you want to…"

She slowed her pace slightly, and Marcus looked at her again. She knew her face was flushed; she didn't know exactly what her expression looked like and she was too flustered to school it.

"Calista, nevermind," he said, quickly, and he repositioned their linked arms so he could hold her hand, reassuringly. "I wasn't… I was just talking rubbish," he said, "No one's sneaking anyone anywhere, it was just something dumb my dad says. And it doesn't matter if he would be paying attention to us or not,  _I_  wouldn't do anything that's not right, okay?"

"Not right?" she echoed, because she wasn't sure what else to say but she could tell from his rising panic that she ought to say  _something._

"You know," he said, looking like he'd rather be talking about something else, "I wouldn't… I wouldn't try to… to do anything if you didn't want me to. Ever. Just like… just like flying upside down, right? Not until you want me to."

They had reached the station now, and the train should be arriving any minute.

"Calista, say something," Marcus pleaded, "I feel like you're cross with me, and I don't even know what I did."

"I'm not cross," she said at last, because that, at least was true. She wasn't sure precisely what she  _was_ , but it wasn't cross. And then, partly because she'd meant to say it long ago, and partly due to a desperate urge to change the subject, she said, "Thanks, by the way. For… for the Quidditch thing, a long time ago. Telling them I was spying for you."

Marcus smiled, slightly bewildered but largely relieved. 'Course, Calista. I'll always stand up for you."

"The train's coming," she said, and she wasn't sure if she was sad or relieved, just then, to see it coming up the track.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Dinner with Severus had gone remarkably well after Calista returned from Diagon Alley. She concentrated on pushing the last part of her conversation with Marcus far, far towards the back of her mind, and evidently she managed to keep it off her face, too.

"Marcus told me you were helping him try to stay on the team," she said, surprised with how normal her voice sounded, when he asked her how her visit had gone. "That's really nice of you."

"No need to sound so surprised," he said, drily, with an unexplained lingering look out their kitchen window. "Mr. Flint  _is_  a student in my House, after all; and I want to win that damn Cup."

"Do you think the Headmaster will let him stay on?"

"It wouldn't be unprecedented."

"Well, I hope he does. Marcus… he really likes playing Quidditch. Personally, I think I'd rather duel a dozen fully-trained wizards at once than fly on my own again, but he likes it."

"Ah," Severus said, pausing while he chewed a mouthful of chicken, "Speaking of dueling… you have further work to do with your young friend, Miss Spratt, I fear. Her  _Furnunculus_  hex is absolutely dismal."

Calista blinked. "Daisy?  _Furnunculus_? I didn't teach her that."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "You didn't?"

"No… you were very specific. You said I could teach her Disarming, and the Leg-Locker curse. So that's all I've shown her."

"I must admit," Severus said, and she could feel him studying her face, but she was telling the truth. "I'm surprised. When she came to my office with Miss Nott, who was on the receiving end of her curse, in very much the same fashion as you and Miss MacNair, I was certain you had a hand in it."

"I promised I'd only teach her those two," Calista repeated. "I didn't - I wouldn't lie to you."

"I'm not accusing you of doing so," Severus said, in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"Hang on," Calista said slowly, "You thought I'd taught her curses I wasn't supposed to, and she hexed someone, and you didn't make me come for detention?"

"My main concern," Severus said, "Was that you didn't attempt to teach your friends curses that were too dangerous, too advanced, for them. Under no circumstances should they be shown some of the curses that we've been practising -"

"Dad, I  _know_  that."

"Evidently," he said, sounding pleased. "I hoped you had finally learned to obey my boundaries, but I wasn't certain. I limited you to those two spells, knowing that at  _least_  you weren't likely to go too far beyond what I'd permitted you to show them. Truthfully, though, I wasn't surprised when you - when it  _appeared_  that you'd taught them a few other minor hexes."

She shook her head, disbelieving. "I… I don't even know if I'm more hurt that you thought I'd disobeyed you, or surprised that you didn't punish me for thinking I had."

"Well, before you wallow too much in hurt," Severus cautioned drily, "Consider that you once brewed a sixth-year potion in your wardrobe -"

"That was  _one time_!"

"-in your second year," he continued, as if he had not heard her, but Calista knew him well enough to hear the smallest note of pride find its way into that part of his statement, "And then there was the whole business where you were sneaking around with  _that boy_ -"

At this, Calista felt her face flush; not, she suspected, for quite the reason Severus thought. At his words, unbidden, her earlier conversation with Marcus on the way to the train began worming its way into her thoughts.

"How did this turn into you lecturing me?" she interrupted, plaintively, forcing those traitorous thoughts back down, "I  _didn't_  do anything wrong this time, remember?"

"Remarkably, that does seem to be the case," Severus agreed. "The dilemma, though, is that someone evidently  _is_  teaching young Miss Spratt hexes that she can't quite handle."

Calista had an idea she could guess who it might be; she remembered Eva Selwyn slyly whispering to Daisy after a few of Calista's own lessons with the younger girl. Still, Eva was her housemate and her friend; she wasn't about to rat her out, especially not on mere suspicion.

"I wonder," Severus said, and she braced herself to answer that she had no idea who it could be, "If you'd like to correct the problem, though it wasn't your doing."

"I don't know who taught her," Calista said, "And I don't want to spy on my housemates to find out -"

Severus waved his hand. "I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you if you'd like to teach her the correct way to cast the curse."

"Are you… are you serious?"

"I expect you to impress upon her that she should refrain from hexing her classmates except in the direst of circumstances, unless she's bent on challenging your detention record with me," he said, "But I'd certainly rather reverse a  _correctly_  cast hex than the mess that was sent to my office."

"Wow," Calista remarked, "Some Head of House  _you_  are."

Severus noted that she sounded impressed. "Ah, and some -"

He stopped, suddenly.

"What?" Calista asked.

"Nothing," he said, but seeing that she was already opening her mouth to ask again, he added almost kindly, "I was only going to register, again, my surprise at your sudden ability to follow rules."

"Oh, I always had the  _ability_ ," she snarked, "Just not always the inclination."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista stood, hand poised to knock on the heavy wooden door in front of her. She still had time, she reasoned with herself, to change her mind and return home.

Instead, she slipped her other hand into her pocket, and fingered the edges of the tattered pages she could feel within. She exhaled, feeling not quite so vulnerable.

Perhaps she should feel foolish, for digging her old, ratty journal out after all this time and bringing it with her, but once the idea had occurred to her, it felt immediately right. After all, the reason she was afraid to visit Tonks' mother was that she looked an awful lot like Bellatrix, and what had Calista always counted on to give herself strength when her mother was around?

She reached out, decisively, and knocked on the door.

It was pulled open quickly, and Tonks beamed out at her from beneath a head of spiky orange hair.

"Hallo, then!" she said brightly, "Come on in - I've got a bottle of firewhiskey in my room if you want - er, only joking," she said, when she caught Calista's expression. "You're too young, of course. Anyway, my mum's in here -"

Calista had followed Tonks into the entryway, and Tonks was gesturing to the living room beyond it. Calista avoided looking into the room. What if she  _wasn't_  able to remain calm?

"D'you want to say hi before we go in my room?"

"Erm…"

Calista was spared needing to decide, however, when Andromeda herself appeared at the doorway, beckoning both of the girls in.

Calista immediately felt a moment of blind panic; with effort, she kept her mouth shut, schooled her expression.

 _It isn't her_ , she reminded herself, over and over again.  _Not her, not her, not her._

"Come," Andromeda said, "I'd like to meet you properly, Calista. And Dora - I've hardly seen you all week."

"Training's been brutal," Tonks supplied.

"Hm," Andromeda said, drily, and it helped that her voice was sufficiently different from Bellatrix's. "Of course, your father and I would see you more if you came after training once in awhile."

"I do," Tonks cracked, as she bounced into the living room, "Once in awhile."

Calista followed Tonks, hoping her movements weren't too wooden. She was still trying to calm her breathing, to allow her heart rate to slow.

"Nymphadora has a newfound fondness for pubs, now that she's of age," Andromeda said, by way of explanation, as she gestured for Calista to sit in a nearby chair.

"Mum!" Tonks hissed, " _Don't_  call me that."

Calista felt Andromeda's eyes on her; afraid that she was already making herself out to be mental, she perched gingerly on the edge of the chair, slipping her fingers into her pocket again. There; she felt the gentle brush of the pages against the pad of her thumb and exhaled.

"You're awfully quiet, child," Andromeda commented, still eyeing her. "Are you all right?"

"Erm," Calista managed, "Fine."

"So. Bellatrix's daughter. I must admit, I can't imagine having my sister for a mother," she continued, and there was something like sympathy in her voice, "Well, either of them, really, but  _especially_  Bella."

"Aunt N- Erm, Narcissa isn't bad," Calista ventured, because it's all she could trust herself to say in a normal tone just then.

"Hmph," Andromeda said, "Dare to marry a Muggle-born wizard, dear, and tell me if you still feel that way."

Tonks made a rude noise in her throat, indicating her opinion of Narcissa.

"Anyway," Andromeda continued, "I'm sorry for whatever she must have put you through. I admit, I was annoyed, that day in the bookstore - not that it's the first time anyone's made that mistake, mind you - but when Dora explained who you were, it suddenly made a lot of sense. I can't imagine Bella was a particularly  _nurturing_  mother."

"She - she was the worst you can imagine," Calista said, and she found that one fist was clenched around the book in her pocket. Her aunt would surely think she was mental; just then, Calista didn't care. She just wanted to feel safe, if that was possible while sitting here and discussing her mother with someone who was nearly her spitting image. "But it's not… it's not your fault. Not anyone's, except hers."

Well, she didn't  _entirely_  believe that all the time, did she? She wasn't proud of it, but more than once she'd imagined that her father or Narcissa had come to rescue her sooner, and once in awhile, a tiny prick of anger that they hadn't threatened to surface. Still, she always reminded herself, they hadn't  _known_.

"I believe that adults have a responsibility to protect children," Andromeda said, and she was watching Calista a little sadly. "I was burned out of the family tree before you were born, so I didn't exactly receive a birth announcement. If I had known, I like to believe that I would have filed a report with the Ministry to have her investigated, and have the child - you - removed from her home."

Tonks was following the conversation, frowning. She looked uncomfortable; maybe she wanted to comfort Calista, or maybe she just didn't quite want to witness this conversation.

Calista's head was spinning; she hadn't known the Ministry could even do such things. And even if Andromeda had known she existed…

"But how would you have known I needed help," Calista ventured, "Just by knowing I was born? Things could've been -  _I_  could've been different -"

Oh, gods; Calista wanted to hex herself out of existence. Where had that come from? Of course she'd always wondered if her mother would have treated her better if she, Calista, had been more willing to accept Bellatrix's rhetoric, if she hadn't been afraid of being a Squib, but she certainly hadn't intended to say so to her aunt that she had just barely met; her aunt that looked too much like Bellatrix for Calista's comfort.

"I very much doubt that, child. I can't, under any circumstances, imagine Bellatrix being anything other than the worst sort of mother. Surely, even Narcissa must have been able to see that. Didn't Narcissa see you, when you were small?"

"I don't remember," Calista said, which was the truth, even though she knew from Narcissa that she had, at least a few times. Andromeda was implying that Narcissa must have known… and hadn't done anything to help Calista.

She found, suddenly, that she held her little book, openly in her lap, clutched in both hands. She felt herself flush, slowly, as Andromeda's eyes fell on it.

"Where did you get that?" Andromeda asked, and her tone had changed; she sounded deeply curious.

"I - erm, it's mine," she said, reflexively, as if she were four or five years old again, and someone was threatening, for the umpteenth time to take the little book away.

"Does it look blank to you?" Andromeda asked, still curious.

"What - of course it's..."

What was happening here? Calista found herself suddenly bewildered by the turn of conversation. She made to stuff the book hastily back in her pocket, but Andromeda plucked it gently from her hands.

"I'll give it back in a moment," she said, flipping quickly through the pages; Calista squirmed, even though she knew the pages would undoubtedly appear blank, since she hadn't willingly handed it over.

True to her world, Andromeda handed the book back. Calista took it quickly and buried it deep in her pocket.

"It's nothing," she muttered.

To her surprise, Andromeda laughed.

"I know precisely what it is," she said, "Though I haven't the slightest why it's working for you now."

"What - what do you mean?"

"That book - that was  _my_  book," Andromeda said, "I put the enchantment on it, when I was - oh, thirteen or so. I was tired of my sisters bullying me for not buying into their pureblood mania, and I needed somewhere I could set my thoughts down without having them snoop through my things and find out what I'd written."

"You -  _you_  made this book?" Calista echoed, not quite certain she understood.

"Well, I enchanted it," Andromeda repeated, "I always wondered what had happened to it - I thought I'd taken it with me when I left home, but then I could never find it again. I must have left it behind after all."

"I've had it since I can remember," Calista said, slowly. "I found it, in our house when I was quite small. At first I - I didn't even know how to write, but I could scribble in it. My m -  _She_  always thought it was just a blank mouldy old book, but I could always see everything I'd written before."

"And there was always just one more blank page, yes?" Andromeda asked, knowingly.

Calista nodded. "I… no one else can read it…"

"Unless you hand it to them willingly," Andromeda finished. "I know; brilliant, isn't it? I'm rather proud of that spell."

"I remember you telling me about that book," Tonks ventured, "You said it was the first spell you ever invented."

"Indeed it was," Andromeda said, with a small, triumphant sort of smile. "I still think it was quite clever."

"But," Calista wondered, "If you invented the spell, how does it work for me?"

"I'm not certain," Andromeda speculated, "Perhaps the enchantment sensed our shared blood…"

"And our shared desperation to keep Bell- to keep  _her_  out of our thoughts," Calista managed, in a small voice.

Andromeda regarded her, thoughtfully. "I wonder if, perhaps, that is precisely why you were able to make it work."

"Well," Calista said, hesitantly, "If you're the one that left this book behind, then… I guess… I guess in a way, you did help me, after all."

There was something about that thought that warmed Calista, just slightly. She took a deep breath, and settled more comfortably into her chair.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

A few weeks before term, Severus leapt up suddenly from the breakfast table. He strode to the window, and pulled the screen open. Calista stood as well, narrowing her eyes to peer out the window, but remained hovering near the table, not quite ready to abandon her breakfast yet.

In the distance, an owl was approaching, its small dark form growing closer.

"You've been acting mental about that window all summer," Calista said, biting off a mouthful of bacon, "Arrawaytee - erm."

She swallowed, impatiently. " _Are you_   _waiting_  for something important?"

"Perhaps."

She rolled her eyes, and sat back down. Whatever it was, he clearly wasn't going to tell her. It was probably some article he was waiting to read in  _Potions Digest_ , or a letter from Lucius.

The owl swooped in the window, and rather than stop for Severus to untie its burden, it settled in the middle of the kitchen table, hooting expectantly at Calista.

"Hah," Calista said, setting her bacon down, "All that, and it's not even for you."

She expected him to fire back a sarcastic reply; when he didn't she glanced up from untying the letter. He was watching her, expectantly, almost eagerly.

"You can relax," she said, sticking her finger in the envelope and ripping the seal open, "It's not from Marcus. It's something from Hogwarts - they probably changed one of the textbooks, or something."

"Well?" Severus prompted, "Are you going to read it?"

"I'm working on it, can't I finish my breakfast fir- argh!"

She jumped, startled, as a small, metal object fell out of the envelope. It was… it looked like some sort of badge, but it had landed facedown. She unfolded the letter, and as she read it, her jaw dropped slowly open.

_Dear Miss Snape,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to serve as a Prefect of Slytherin House, effective on the first day of the next term._

_Your school records reflect a dedicated student, earning top marks in your year in several subjects, and an admirable thirst to pursue further learning outside of the classroom._

_Furthermore, you have demonstrated a willingness to welcome and guide younger students, and have set a commendable example for promoting unity among the four Houses of Hogwarts._

_We know that you will continue to serve as a role model for your fellow students and will take your Prefect duties seriously._

_You will be responsible, on the first day of term, for guiding the incoming first years from your House to their common room. Your attendance is also required at a Prefect meeting with your Head of House on the morning of 3 September 1991, where the rest of your duties will be outlined._

_Please accept our congratulations on being selected for this position!_

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry_

_Severus Snape  
Potions Master, Head of Slytherin House_

"I can't believe - Dad - they… they made me a Prefect!" Calista managed, reaching out for the badge. She picked it up, turned it over, wondering if it was real.

It certainly  _felt_  real, looked it, too. It was just like Endria Folland's badge, with the Slytherin House crest overlaid by a silver 'P'.

"Did you - did you know about this?" she wondered, finally forcing her eyes to look over the letter, and up at her father. She wondered if his look of disbelief would match hers -

Except, when she looked at him, he didn't look disbelieving at all. In fact, he looked - and there was no other word for it - positively  _gloating_.

"Congratulations," he said, and he smiled, a rare, wide, genuine smile. She realised, belatedly, that it was a mirror of the smile that had found its way to her own face as she'd taken in the words of the letter.

"You… you knew?" Calista asked, still holding on to both the badge and the letter, and then, as she glanced at the letter again, "Of course you knew. Your name's on the letter. Do the Heads of House choose the Prefects, then?"

She couldn't believe she'd never thought to ask how it all worked before; but then, she hadn't really wanted to admit to possibly wanting to become one, so that if in the seemingly inevitable event that she  _wasn't_  chosen, she needn't feel disappointed.

"Heads of House submit nominations," he said, still smiling fondly in her direction, "The nominees need to receive endorsements from two other Heads of House, or four professors total if they can't get two Heads to agree. If that doesn't happen, the Head of House needs to nominate another student, and another, and so on until the other professors agree. And then, of course, the Headmaster needs to approve of the choices."

"Did you… did you nominate me right away, or did they reject someone else first?" she hardly dared to ask.

Severus snorted. "Really? You need to ask me that? I submitted your name the very day that nominations opened."

"Who… who endorsed me?" she wondered, "Professor Flitwick, perhaps? But then… that's only one Head of House besides you. I don't think Professor Vector likes me  _that_  much, so it must have been Professor Babbling… I can't think who else."

"Filius Flitwick, " Severus said, "Stopped me in the corridor on my way to the Headmaster's office to let me know that if I wanted his endorsement, I'd  _better_  be nominating you. Ah, and as it happens, you were one of the first students, I believe, to receive approval from the Heads of Houses."

"But who else -"

"Minerva McGonagall," he said, and Calista's jaw dropped for the second time that morning.

"I had no idea she even liked me. I… wow. I can't believe I'm a  _Prefect_."

Severus reached for her then, and, almost hesitantly, pulled her into a hug. He seemed afraid that she might not let him; but then, maybe it was simply that she was nearly as tall as he was, now, and didn't fit quite as well as she once had.

"You deserve it," he said, sincerely. But there was something… something that Percy had told her, once.

"Wait…" Calista said, gently extracting herself from her father's arms, "But… Percy told me once, you can't be Prefect if you have too many detentions. I've had loads."

"Ah," Severus said, and he smirked. "It seems the vast majority of your detentions were assigned by your Head of House, and - curiously - none of those ended up in your school files. I suppose your Head of House must have forgotten to send the records in."

She blinked, rapidly. "You… you mean, you've been  _covering_  for me? All this time?"

"Not covering," he said, sternly. "That wouldn't be ethical. I merely ensured that the transgressions I felt you'd already atoned for didn't have the power to follow you throughout the entirety of your academic career."

She grinned, and squeezed the badge in her fist.

"Dad," she said, "I love you,  _so much_  right now."

"Well," he said, drawing himself up, and affecting an air of authority, "Don't think to use this as an excuse to begin flouting rules as you please; if I hear that you're abusing my lenience, or your position, you won't have an ounce of free time after all of the detentions I'll have you serving -"

Calista rolled her eyes. "And here I thought we were going to have a moment."

"But didn't you hear me?" Severus teased, smirking. "I was saying, 'I love you, too.'"


End file.
